Waste
by Hirvitank
Summary: The transience of all things worldly and other had been a constant given during my life and long reign after that, it shouldn't have been a surprise when my debt was due.
1. Soak

The transience of all things worldly and other had been a constant given during my life, and long reign after that; it shouldn't have been a surprise when my debt was due. I hadn't quite taken the situation seriously, and now… There were unforeseen consequences. 4000 years of misery, birthed in misery, at last ending in misery. How often I had considered myself ready to fade from this wretched plane of existence. Centuries of slow burning bitterness coursing through my metaphorical body, like the sting of bile rising up one's throat, burning the tender walls in its wake

What I hadn't been ready for however, was the unexpected turn of events that occurred following my attempted assassination. Something even I hadn't been able to foresee.

But here I was, my skin sticking in patches to the dirty cobblestone streets and the rain relentlessly beating down on my newly acquired physical form. My figurative bile entered reality by splattering onto the slick road in several gut-wrenching waves, mixing in with the redness pooling from my stomach.

The sound of thunder ricocheted off the weathered bricks that towered over my frail being. Ominous figures, they silently witnessed my pathetic suffering. Mud scratched at my skin in places where it had given way to the hard cobbles. The hard-edged stones ripped into me like teeth into a ripened fruit, the tissue lay scattered across the street — only to be replaced by the grating sludge that rose from between the uneven rocks. As the waves of nausea subsided, I decided it was just as well. I found myself listlessly staring into a quickly forming pool of water and what was most likely excrement thrown out into the rank poverty-stricken streets. Two pale hazel eyes stared back at me.

Those eyes had gazed upon a world not so different from this one, a world equally as unjust and bent. They had cried for a mother that had no longer been there and a father who had been sickeningly cold blooded and cruel. Those things were but distant echoes of another lifetime, of course.

With great effort and a few cracking joints, I hoisted myself up against the nearest wall, not minding the discomfort of the jagged bricks digging into my skull as I rested my head, gaze turned skyward. It was then that the outline of a dark figure, barely recognisable as such, poked out from behind a blackened chimney.

Lovely.

I closed my eyes as a wet thud resounded from just a few meters away. They stayed there, silently watching me as if uncertain I was even real. Seconds rolled by like centuries and I was inclined to speak first.

"I wonder…" The words rolled off my tongue in a sarcastic drawl. "What will an Empress do, faced with the possibility to be the saviour of the people she so eagerly sets out to please?" I needn't open my eyes to know she'd been shocked at the sound of my voice. "The supposed destroyer of all dark magic in this world… Easy pickings at a chance of false victory painted in the blood of a man most despised."

I could sense her eyes searching me, checking if what she saw was yet another one of my illusions or something else entirely. As time passed, and nothing but silence and the wet slaps of rain against my face filled the air, I slowly turned my gaze to confront the Empress.

I could barely make out the slight widening of her eyes coupled with a sharp intake of breath. The Empress stood there, surveying me as she would something strange and elusive from the far ends of Pandyssia. Had I been in the Void I would have simply disappeared to escape her gaze; sadly, I wasn't. Thus I found myself pushed down into the wet street by the gravity of this world. The clothes that stuck to my skin felt heavy and wet from the rain and blood that seeped into them.

The Empress appeared to have realised she'd been staring, as she finally cleared her throat before continuing to speak.

"My magi- _your_ magic," she started as she took off one of her gloves, baring to me a perfectly clear patch of skin that had once been decorated by my dark gift. "It's gone." Her eyes searched mine for an answer, implored for an explanation; one she hoped I was capable of delivering. But my throat had run dry, my breath in short supply, and the image of her danced before my eyes. She hesitated for a moment, not sure what to make of my silence, of my drifting gaze and rolling neck.

I don't know what happened next. But I could take a guess as the warmth of two nurturing hands, the likes of which I had long been denied since the first gasp of putrid air filled my lungs and my supposed last had escaped them, replaced the cold.

And so, as lights danced, died, and sparked into life again behind my lids, I felt the stinging in my stomach flare to a crescendo as I was hoisted up and carried off to the Void knows where. Deft feet used to the slippery streets pounced as they sprung from roof to roof. I felt the life slowly leaking from this vessel, this body of mine. A body I hadn't inhabited for over 4000 years. Sensations entirely foreign to me — pain, sleep — overtook me until finally there was nothing again but the peaceful darkness I'd grown so used to.

* * *

I awoke to the warmth of a fire and the harsh texture of what was most likely a wooden floor imprinting into my tender skin. I lay in a stuffy old room, the wallpaper peeling off the weathered walls in long curling strips. Through the gaps of the boarded-up windows lay an inky blackness, suggesting it was still night.

Dressed in nothing but my pants, and covered in a ratty blanket, sparks filled my blurry vision as I tried to crane my neck to see where the Empress had gone. With a sharp intake of breath, I readied myself to sit up, quite annoyed by the fragility of this thing that was my body.

More spots filled my vision as I pulled myself from my previous position into the next, followed by a startled flurry of feet and hands that came to support my back.

I bit back the frustration as I glared at the Empress, who'd abandoned whatever it was she had been doing to help me steady myself, her hands splayed out across my back and chest, lending me the much-needed support for staying upright rather than just toppling over again.

Their warmth penetrated through the sorry excuse of a blanket, and suddenly I felt suffocated. 4000 years of floating around in the Void, not much more than a whisper of my human self, meant I was currently dealing with a sensory overload.

"Please. _Don't_." The words came out through gritted teeth.

She unceremoniously scrambled back at the words — looking at me with big dark eyes, darting between my own in search for some answers. I wasn't intent on meeting her gaze however. The first time her eyes had met mine, I'd noticed the minor shift in her focus: the way she stared straight into me — no longer walled off by the Void's black glare — and thought her own incomprehensible thoughts.

"What happened?" she asked at last, her voice quivering ever so slightly with a hint of terror at what events might have come to pass in a place so far from her own hearth and home.

My throat felt like sandpaper as I set my focus on the flying embers of the nearby fire instead of her questioning gaze.

"An old man once asked himself that very question as his estranged children plunged the cold end of a knife between his ribs. It didn't prevent him dying, nor did it grant him any wisdom."

"Are you serious?"

"Had he been aware of the consequences that followed his actions, perhaps reflection upon his mistakes might have occurred before the knife drank his blood."

"Alright, listen," the Empress said, pinching her nose. "We don't have time for this. My magic is gone, and I'm assuming you're not feeling quite as perky yourself."

"What makes you say that?"

With an exasperated sigh, she motioned to my abdomen. "I don't know, perhaps it was the gaping wound in your stomach I had the pleasure of closing — or maybe," she deadpanned, thickly exaggerating the emphasis on the last word, "it has to do with the fact that you're physically here, looking human, and on the verge of very humanly dying."

It was then I noticed she had indeed closed and bandaged the gaping wound that had decorated my skin, my clothes folded in a neat bundle beside me.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why'd you fix it?" I implored sourly as my gaze trailed a particularly intriguing ember that floated off the fire. The air had taken on a smoky quality, the licking flames consuming what one might assume to be an old chair.

Sharp nails dug into my cheeks as thin fingers forcibly gripped my face.

"Look at me," the Empress breathed. "This is serious."

My eyes reluctantly met hers as a primal feeling echoed from within me, like a distant call from centuries ago. Images of another hand gripping and digging into my skin, nails blackened with grime that had collected underneath them in the wake of neglect, flitted before my eyes and disappeared as fast as they had come. My heart hammered in my chest, and I could feel a layer of moisture collecting on my bared skin.

I set my jaw as I stared her down, the unfamiliar feeling of anger bubbling in my chest, burning and eating at me like the fire ate the worn chair, until it was nothing but ashes.

"It doesn't matter. What has been done is done," I replied stonily.

"Okay, but how do we undo it?"

"There is no _we_." I scrunched up my nose. "I'm the last person to feel inclined to fix this crooked Empire of yours."

She narrowed her eyes at that.

"Please. Stop. Touching. Me." The words were clipped, my eyes pointedly looking at the hand still locked on my face with a firm grip.

"Fine." She retracted the offending limb smoothly. "But you need to stop with the 'woe is me' attitude, and please at least try to explain to me how I can fix whatever has been done to mess things up like this." She paused for a moment, licking her lips before continuing. "The whale oil isn't functioning normally. There have been... problems."

I sighed as I lay back down again — bothered by the skin that was tightly pulled over my protruding bones as they bore all of my weight with nothing to cushion them from the hard floor.

"I don't see how this relates to me exactly," I spoke uncaringly, allowing the words to fester in my mouth before slowly pushing them out.

"You're part of the Void — were part of the Void. Weren't you? You were the source of magic in this world. Whales are also a part of that magic, are they not? Which means you being here might have upset some balance." Sentences tumbled out like rats from a carcass. I wasn't used to her talking this much. I wasn't used to anyone talking this much. I usually did the talking.

I fixed my gaze back to her before thinking about what she said. She was wrong, mostly — but it didn't matter; my stay in the Void was never meant to last. My time had come, and I sure wasn't going back there just to save the Empire. The Void wouldn't last forever either way, one day it would devour all the lights in the sky — that much was known. Perhaps that day had come already. I had watched and observed as the centuries passed like seconds. As those upon whom I had bestowed my gift more often than not used it as a means of power, of dominance over the lesser and more vulnerable. It was all the same.

Perhaps, apart from this girl and her father before her. They were the rare exceptions, the ones breaking the rules of human design. Justice served in mercy. Even Delilah had been on the receiving end of more grace than she deserved. They had been unexpectedly intriguing.

I recalled a young girl, surprised at finding herself stranded in the depths of the Void. Recalled the pictures she'd drawn afterwards, her imagination knowing no bounds.

Something tugged at my gut, convincing me that helping was the right thing to do. But since when had I cared about doing the right thing? Had I not danced in decay, accompanied by the shrieking laughter of Vera Moray as she'd cut up her husband piece by piece?

My eyes flitted to the Empress's face, her features heavy with worry for what was to happen. I recognised that look, had seen it on those features many years ago.

Perhaps I owed her, if only just a little.

I wet my lips before I spoke, careful with my words.

"You helped me with Delilah not too long ago," I started, observing the way her lips parted as she hung on my every word.

"I can do you this one small favour, but know I do not carry the answers you're looking for."

Her features lit up at that, a small relieved smile tugging at the corners of her lips. But as fast as the expression had come, it made way for a more serious one — her lips set in a grim line.

"Do you think you can move?"

I experimented with several movements, bending this way and that and rotating my arms and torso around. Although it hurt me to do so, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. So I nodded at her, and the relieved smile returned. She grabbed the stack of clothes and dumped them into my lap.

"Get dressed. We need to get started on a plan. We really can't be loitering around as the world dies." She paused. "Also, we need to get you some proper food."

She eyed me up and down as I re-dressed. I noticed that my shirt and jacket had also been stitched and... washed? The scent was unmistakably floral, but not familiar. And not unpleasant.

As I turned to sit and tie my boots, a thought occurred to me.

"How long have we been here?" I asked, sending a dejected look at a dent in my right boot that hadn't been there before.

"I'd say about a week. I've been coming and going. You were out cold, probably from blood loss. Had to force-feed you broth. You do not want to know how messy it gets feeding broth to a vegetable." She trailed off, eyes glazing over as she appeared to be recalling the days past.

I sat, at a loss for words. A week? A week since my attempted assassination? Since everything had blown up in — probably — everyone's faces. What could have happened to Lurk? What had become of the Void? I returned to look at the Empress, who had begun rambling on about spoons and cloths before noticing I had stopped listening.

With a small intake of breath, she continued.

"We can't have anyone else knowing you're here — alive."

I agreed, but also feared it might be too late for that already. There were groups out there that were bound to know I'd disappeared.

"First things first, we need to get back to the palace. I can keep you in my safe room now that you're conscious and able to sneak in with me. We need to get you some proper food, attire, and the right documents." As she spoke she checked the streets below through the barricaded window, assessing if there were possible threats to our persons nearby.

Apparently satisfied, she turned and motioned for me to come with her. Much to my dismay, she expected me to sneak out alongside her. Years of floating around in the Void did nothing for one's climbing skills, let alone reflexes. I was sorely reminded of that fact during our scale up the roof. The Empress pulled herself up with ease — but I struggled. Weighed down by the painful stinging of my recently closed wound and weakened by the fact that I'd been figuratively dead for over 4000 years, hers was a tough act to follow. She sent me a few worried glances, but I kept my features as stoic as ever.

The night sky was filled with a vast number of stars. I recalled wishing upon them when I was very young. I had never wished for wealth or prosperity.

Now as we moved through the darkness, the air was cold and biting — cutting into my face with each leap.

After what felt like an eternity of humiliating missed jumps and failing hands, forcing the Empress to save me from certain death time after time, we arrived near Dunwall Tower. I had to admit, nothing looked quite the same from down here. The smell that rose from the wet stones, and the sheer vastness that was the impressive height of the steep tower; I hadn't experienced anything quite like it. In fact, it made the endless neutrality of the Void all the more empty. As my lungs greedily begged for more air, my heart beating at a pace that was dizzying, I felt the flicker of an emotion that I hadn't felt for centuries now: adrenaline.

"You ready?" I vaguely heard the Empress's question over the sound of my own ecstatic pulse.

Turning to her, I became aware of the tugging at the corners of my mouth. I quickly collected myself and nodded to her. With our destination in sight we made a focused effort to avoid making any unnecessary noises; guards heavily patrolled the vicinity, and one wrong movement could alert them. I watched, as I had many times before, as the Empress crawled over the brick structures with a cat-like grace, making use of the architecture to help her progress. Not being able to teleport myself was a real handicap, my movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

Soon we reached the ledge of her royal quarters, the high-arching window left open ever so slightly. The Empress pushed them out of our way and gestured for me to enter, her eyes tracking my movements as I stepped inside. This wasn't the first time I had seen this room. I had gazed upon it before — however this was the first time I was physically there, able to take in the smells and textures of the surrounding furniture. I allowed my hands to trace the rough edges of wooden furniture and the softness of the delicate silks. Sensations that had been foreign to me, even during my original life.

The Empress stood and watched as my eyes traced the delicate pattern that decorated the draperies, woven into them with care and much patience. Old worn hands had most likely spent a lifetime mastering the art of needle and thread, reaching the peak of their mastery shortly before old age became too much and left them stiff and trembling, worthless to today's economy.

"I'll call for the kitchen to cook us some food." The Empress spoke as she moved past me, heading for the intercom that allowed for direct communication with the cooks that worked in the underbelly of the tower.

I nodded absentmindedly at her words. Here in the cleanliness of her room, each scent stood out. The air was pleasant and soft and as she passed I picked up the same sweet scent that I had smelled on my own garb earlier that evening.

Carefully I allowed myself to sit down on the nearby bed, my joints and muscles burning from exertion. I had a lot to think about: how this was even possible, for starters. My mortal body had died the moment my blood had spilled from my throat so very long ago. I remembered the sensation of my own heart pumping the fluid into the air in gruesome tides with each erratic beat.

It should not be possible for me to be alive now; I was the embodiment of the Void made up of shadows and magic, held together by stone. I tried my best to recollect what exactly had happened in those final moments, when Lurk had crossed her way through the Void. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised, sorely, that I only came up blank. All I knew was that something had gone wrong, most likely for both of us.

I felt the Empress's eyes on me before she spoke. I wasn't entirely used to the sensation of being watched.

"You know, I never expected for us to end up in _this_ kind of scenario," she started, carefully sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped under her weight, our thighs just inches apart.

Too close.

I boldly met her gaze this time, challenging her with my now eerily human eyes in an attempt to throw her off, to reinstate some of the distance that was lost the moment I had traded the solitude of the Void for this world. It had the desired effect; she looked quite unsettled.

"I'm sorry, it's… strange." Her eyes darted between my own, uncertain which to focus on. "I'm not used to seeing you looking so…" I raised my brows, but she appeared to be at a momentary loss for words. "Normal."

But I wasn't normal, was I? Even now, with the essence of the Void ripped away from me, hazel eyes as pale as mine were a rarity among the folk of Gristol. There were plenty of people sporting the common blues and browns, but for a shade so close to white as mine...

You'd have to travel the isles to the most desolate reaches of places like Tyvia to encounter a people with these extraordinary traits. The gene was highly recessive, meaning it never survived long. With the start of industrial whaling and trading, southern sailors travelled to the far ends of the isles and societies began to mix, effectively eliminating a trait of an ancient people.

As I watched and noted the flecks of gold that swam in the Empress's own curious eyes, I realised I hadn't even had the time to figure out my standing in this world now that I was no longer a god. Questions only led to more questions, and sometimes the answers terrified me. I had been okay with just dying, skipping this mortal part and heading straight for the end. I hadn't desired to figure out my place. But now it seemed I wasn't entirely sure how I felt anymore.

Slender fingers brushed a lock of hair behind a pale ear as the Empress broke away from my gaze, thoughts swimming in her eyes like words from another language. I had become a master in the art of observing; I had witnessed the very core of humanity as it violently fought for its place in this gory world. But I had never had the chance to fully understand the thoughts of a single human, to recognise each passing emotion as it sparked to life and died in an instant. And now I found that perhaps I had been robbed of something exquisitely interesting, as this language I didn't understand filled me with a newborn curiosity for humanity itself.

It was then that a short knock interrupted the moment. In a matter of seconds, the Empress stood and hurriedly made her way towards the double doors that served as an entrance, peeping out carefully before opening it to accept what was most likely the dinner she had called for. She softly thanked the obscured maid and returned with a silver cart containing several dishes covered with large, intricately decorated lids. Parking it at a nearby table, she carefully arranged the food and drinks before biting her lip and returning to look at me. I sat watching her silently, awaiting her next words.

"You can sit over here..." She gestured to a white chair decorated in a delicate floral pattern with several royal blue cushions for comfort. "-If you'd like," she added quickly.

I stood, feeling oddly light and dizzy as my stomach rumbled violently at the scent of food. I had forgotten what starvation did to the body; how the appetite turned inward, its own muscles and tissues festering, like hungry rats feasted on their own kin when starved long enough.

I made my way to the table, feeling the strain that our journey had put on my muscles, carefully sitting down again in the appointed chair and amusedly reminding myself not to slouch. An empty plate and several pieces of cutlery lay before me as the Empress lifted a number of lids to reveal something that more closely resembled one of Sokolov's paintings rather than actual food. The scent that traveled in hot wafts of air was nothing short of delicious, and I could feel my mouth water at the aroma.

The Empress carefully filled my plate with a variety of foods I had never dared dream of touching, their rich textures and flavourful spices probably the best of Gristol.

The first bite was nothing short of magic, and as I chewed and swallowed a shiver ran down my back. I took another mouthful and another. Bite after bite, and the sensation stayed as rich and intense as it had been the first time.

I suddenly noticed the Empress looking at me with something akin to surprise, not appearing to have touched her own plate of food. Hesitantly, I swallowed as my gaze darted between her and my plate. She stayed silent.

"What?"

"Oh, no nothing," she started, before catching herself momentarily. "It's just…" It appeared she made a habit of it, as she once again bit down on her lip before her eyes darted back to me.

"You look hungry," she finished.

I snorted, trying hard to prevent myself from accidentally spitting the new mouthful of food back onto my plate.

"I am, yes," I replied curtly, returning to my meal.

Right now I enjoyed the riches that I had been denied for so long, and felt strangely torn about it. I had always despised gluttony — but I found my body urging me on, effectively snuffing out that small voice in the back of my head.

The Empress nodded and diverted her eyes, her teeth back to biting that unfortunate lower lip of hers. You'd say she was starving too, from the constant lip-munching she did.

"I've been wondering this for a long time..." she started hesitantly, eyes trying to break mine away from the dishes in front of me. I chose to ignore her instead. "How old are you?"

I paused my chewing, now looking at her with raised eyebrows. "I don't know, I haven't been counting very securely."

She shook her head irately. "No," her hands rose to accompany the word. "I mean how old were you when you were… sacrificed."

I coughed into my elbow after swallowing what was most likely a piece of fruit too soon. When the coughing ceased I met her eyes again, as she sat observing me patiently. "15," I answered, rolling around another piece of exotic looking fruit with my fork, watching it make way for the expensive silver.

She snorted. "You're obviously not 15 anymore."

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Excuse me Empress, I wasn't aware you were such a professional on my own personal history. Did you read up on it at the local Abbey?"

Her cheeks reddened and I noticed a straightening in her posture, an arch to her back as she raised herself ever so slightly in height. "No! I mean, I think it's physically impossible for you to still be 15. You've obviously matured." She paused for a second, pulling her gaze from mine as her eyes seemed to rove across her own thoughts until something occurred to her. "In fact, I think you may have been 15 when I found you." Her eyes shot up, observing my face critically.

Before I could respond she was at my side, moving around my form as her eyes set out to explore my appearance, something flickering in their amber depths. Taking a step back, she bit down on her lip again, pacing back and forth in front of me. "Now that I come to think of it," she regarded me with a curious look, "I'd say your voice has gotten deeper, too."

"How would that be possible?" I asked her skeptically; she was clearly imagining things.

She shook her head, index finger gesticulating emphatically in the air as she spoke up again. "That's not the relevant question," she started, turning back to me. "An ancient Void entity suddenly turns mortal after several thousands of years? It doesn't get much stranger than that." She took another step towards me and sank to her knees to meet me face to face. "What if you're not meant to be alive right now? What if you're dying faster than a normal person would?"

I scoffed. "Great, all according to my original plan."

She slapped my arm, and I winced at the intensity of the sensation.

"No, not great! We don't know what happens if you do actually die. It could mean the end of all things." She stood again and continued her pacing. My eyes trailed her movements as I sat rubbing my assaulted limb, nerves burning from the brief contact. "You're in some sort of limbo, not quite alive. Perhaps that's why the whale oil is just acting strange instead of completely losing its powers."

"So what you're basically saying is I should be worried about premature balding — worst case scenario?"

"What I'm saying is we need to get to the bottom of this before you die of old age!" She threw her hands in the air. "For all I know it could be a matter of days or years before you turn old and die; we don't know how fast the process goes."

I observed a crack in the carefully polished floor as my mind deciphered what the Empress was saying. My assassination had clearly failed in the literal sense of the word, but now it appeared I was to die soon anyway. Perhaps immortality came at a price — a steep one. How I had taken on a physical form was already beyond me, now this form operated by an unknown set of rules, too.

We were in for a race against the clock as the world's fate hung by a thread — which sounded compelling enough to catch my interest.

"So now what, we visit the Void doctor and have him do Voidoo on me?"

The Empress lifted one of her arched eyebrows at me. "Did your sense of humour die along with you all those centuries ago?"

I couldn't help but snort, which was quickly followed by a tired yawn. My eyes suddenly felt incredibly heavy, and before I could understand was was happening my vision faded to black.

* * *

I awoke the next morning to the sounds of harsh whispers and hushed tongues. For a moment I didn't know where I was or what was happening, but memories of the previous night quickly came flooding back.

"Listen Emily — I know, alright, I could have made my return sooner, of course! I could have at least made an effort." An angry voice arose from near the double doors. "But this? This is how you lash out? By the Outsider's crooked cock, Emily!"

I felt my features contort into an annoyed grimace.

"Wyman you don't understand, please calm down," the Empress hurriedly whispered to her lover.

"No I think I do understand Em," Wyman grunted. "I thought we had an understanding, thought that was what you needed: time and patience. Yet here you are..." I could hear the anger rising in their voice, mixing through the dulcet tones like poison.

"Wyman, that is not at all what happened!" Emily exclaimed in annoyance.

"Save it, Em." The person whom had held her heart for the past few years spoke with an unquestionable finality.

I realised I was lying on top of something soft. Looking around, I recognised the Empress's bed. I quickly turned and came face to face with the one I had occasionally seen before, far away in the safe and distant shelter of the Void.

Wyman stared directly at me and as their gaze locked with mine I could make out the slight widening of their light eyes. My joints cracked and popped as I hoisted myself to a sitting position, my wiry frame clumsy and stiff from sleep. My mind — still sluggish — attempted to assess the situation.

I noticed the white of Wyman's knuckles, the stressed tendons tight with tension as their fists shook at their sides. My eyes flitted to the Empress, deciphering the way she was watching me: the strained set of her jaw, the fresh lines marring her face. Lines that hadn't been there the night before. As I came to a stand I noted the way I towered over both of them; the Empress must have made a valid point last night, as I did seem to be taller than before. A heavy silence had settled, Wyman in an obvious state of indecision.

At last I broke it, the deep sound of my voice that echoed off the walls a definite reminder of my physical being.

"One takes witness to their lover in a setting so blatantly questionable to their virtue." I spoke slowly as I wet my lips, slowly inching closer to the pair. "One unquestionably faithful might have bestowed upon their trusted lover the same faith received." I paused, coming to a stop in front of the Morley noble, hands clasped behind my back.

"What does the assessment of a situation unclear say of the assessor, so biasedly critical?" I questioned, tilting my head whilst maintaining eye contact. I could distinctly hear the heart pounding erratically in Wyman's chest, robbed of its usual rhythm. Light eyes darted from me to the Empress — stress flowed visibly through a thickened artery, pulsing on a forehead beginning to pebble with sweat. I surveyed it with curiosity. Up close I could easily smell their discomfort.

"Wyman... What is he talking about?" the Empress implored, suspicion painting her voice as her eyes drifted to me as if I had been the one questioned.

"Em, listen... You need to understand-" the Morley noble started, before I interrupted them. I was no longer immortal; I did not have the time for these... conflicts.

I raised my chin, looking down on the pleading paramour even further. "What I mean is that three weeks and four days after Delilah's coup, our Morley noble warmed their belly with rich Tyvian wines, their tongue with poems of a broken heart, and last but not least, their-"

"Enough!" The noble interjected, throat rasping with emotion. "Enough, please!"

They turned to the Empress, trapping her delicate hands in their own. "Em please, I would never do that to you... I thought you were gone, thought I'd never see you again, I didn't mean-" Their hand shot up, knuckles tenderly caressing their lover's reddened cheek as a single tear traveled down.

"I love you, Em."

The Empress closed her eyes, pulling back from the contact. Wyman made another attempt to reach out but was met with more distance. Their soft pleas went unanswered until at last the Empress opened her eyes again, their amber depths burning.

"Out. Please." She pleaded in clipped tones, turning her back to the noble who had been her first love, her confidant — her future.

Ever the soft one, Wyman nodded solemnly. Their eyes reflected a weary sadness, like an old wound reopened.

"I understand." The sentiment was softly spoken, accepting that they had wronged the one they loved in a way that would be hard to forgive.

Sending me a last questioning look, the noble stepped out, closing the double doors behind them with a soft thud. I stood watching the space they had inhabited not too long ago, mentally dissecting the events that had just passed.

I was abruptly ripped from my thoughts as a soft bundle was thrown at me. When I turned to look, my eyes met something akin to clothes. Except these were far superior to the garments of the everyday man. These were rich silken robes only royalty could afford.

"Get dressed, we need to start planning." As the Empress spoke, the sadness that had been apparent earlier had all but disappeared, replaced by sharp movements and overly pronounced syllables. I looked her up and down, surprised at her eagerness to continue.

"What about what just happened?" I asked, intrigued.

She shot me a hard look before she continued moving around the room, searching for the Void knew what.

"It doesn't matter," she replied.

My eyes followed her, head turning to keep track.

"You love them." It was more a statement than a question.

The Empress stopped for a second, her back turned to me, before slowly meeting my gaze.

"I do."

I wanted to know, to understand. Everything about her screamed agony, yet she kept on going. What was her pain? She read something in my eyes — she must have — as understanding dawned on her features.

"It doesn't matter. Whether I love them or not, what I feel is wasted in a dying world."

I just stood there silently, her words not quite settling in. What had shown on my face for her to read and understand so accurately?

"You really do look older," she commented from across the room, and my eyes snapped back to her moving form. She appeared to be arranging a stack of papers that lay sprawled across her desk. Thumbing through them, she seemed to decide on a few notes hidden away between the masses. Plucking them from their place, she moved them to the side of the desk that was untouched by paperwork, effectively separating them from the rest.

"Not much, though." Apparently satisfied, she returned to where she had stood: a mere meter away from me, the smell of her perfume wafting in thick waves through the small space. Her amber eyes scrutinised me, traveling the planes of my face. I felt my heart hammer in my chest, suddenly self-conscious.

The Empress looked calmer, less pained by the heartbreak she'd endured just moments ago. Love was a fickle thing; I had seen what it did to even the soundest of minds. The lengths people would go, the sacrifices they'd make... All in the name of love. Love was as big a mystery to me as I was to the common folk. I had never experienced romantic love during or after my lifetime. Perhaps I had died too prematurely to understand romance, perhaps too inexperienced to even truly recognise it. I had never understood why love made people do what they did, had never experienced the swelling or breaking of a heart myself.

"If you'd ask me, I'd say you're 18."

"What?" I had all but forgotten the Empress and what she'd been talking about.

"18," she repeated. "Of course we'd have to verify to be sure, have that checked out by a physician. Then we can do the math."

I nodded, not truly listening, too preoccupied by her nearness. A sense of relief flooded me as she finally stepped away, continuing her business. From an adjacent room I could hear a faucet turn, followed by running water. The Empress emerged, directing me to follow her. As I entered, the robes she'd thrown me in hand, I noticed a large tub in the left corner, water streaming into it from a golden faucet.

The room was grand, the walls covered in wooden panels. Multiple worn rugs covered the wooden floors. A mirror was attached to a wooden desk, reflecting the light that streamed in through multiple windows.

"You can wash up and do what you have to do to get ready." The Empress spoke, turning to leave again. "I have several pressing matters to attend to before we'll be able to carry on with our planning."

I nodded as she left, and turned to the bath, watching the soap collect where the stream hit the rising layer of water. At the sound of the double doors closing I kicked off my pants and other articles of clothing, throwing them on the floor nearby. When I unbuttoned my blouse I was met with the clear white of bandages covering my stomach. Inspecting myself as I stood before the mirror, I had to agree with the Empress. My reflection presented me with a slightly taller man sporting a more pronounced jawline, sharper cheekbones, and a barely visible layer of black stubble that tasked me with the tedious chore of shaving.

I was gaunt, made of skin and bones like the beggar I'd been once. My muscles and tendons lay heavily defined beneath my pallid skin, like the wires of a machine. I watched them ripple under the tension I supplied, as if coming to life at my command. I had never truly looked at myself, especially not once I inhabited the Void. Looks had been unimportant then.

Shaking my head, I turned to the bath, abandoning my reflection and the distant emotions it had stirred. I closed the faucet and allowed myself to sink into the warm soapy water, careful as I submerged the bandaged part of my body — the wound stinging unpleasantly at the contact. The heat of the steaming water was quickly soaked up by my skin, it's warmth strikingly opposed to the constant cold of the Void. Of course, I never truly felt anything in the Void. It wasn't literally a feeling; it was more akin to a mental sensation. A vibe.

I rested my head against the edge of the basin and closed my eyes, feeling that same drowsiness as the night before take over. I could hear the sounds of bickering birds through the windows, their wings hitting the panes.

Taking a deep breath I sank to the bottom of the tub, head completely submerged into the warm liquid. As I lay there in a different kind of world, I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling through the water. I found myself enjoying all the new and different sensations. But most of all I was enjoying the hungry burning of my lungs, begging me to gasp for air. In the distorted world of the water I could hear my heartbeat clear as day. Life. There was so much life in me. I hungrily drank in the feeling of my body fighting the lack of oxygen: a duel with death. Existence was so much more rewarding in the face of death.

As my mind started to grow dim, bubbles of air reaching the surface through my nose and mouth, I closed my eyes again and pushed myself up. Water cascaded across the floors, casting a shine over the smooth bits that were not covered by rugs. I sat gasping for air, my hair stuck to my face and droplets clinging to my dark lashes.

* * *

I tugged on my sleeves as the Empress silently watched me from the doorway, the robes she had given me a royal blue bordering on black, the edges decorated with a gold trimming. Looking into the mirror I realised I did not recognise the man I saw. I was a far cry from the boy I had been for so long. Looking refined, dressed in expensive silks, the lightness of my eyes emphasised by the deep shades of the robes. I found myself staring in silence, indistinguishable emotions roaring to life deep within me.

It irked me. I loathed the way it felt, loathed how I didn't know the how's and why's of my own inner workings. The residues of a life long ended screamed inside of me, fought to take over the calm that had ruled for over 4000 years.

"Here let me help." The Empress had spoken suddenly, coming to stand before me. Pale fingers carefully smoothed out the wrinkles, straightening the fabric with practiced grace. The warmth of her hands burned through the silks. I watched the crown of her head, the silken hairs pulled up in a collected hive, not one out of place. A stark contrast to the world that lay outside the safe confines of the tower.

Finished, she tilted her head to meet my gaze, lingering there in curious silence. I was acutely aware of the steady thumping of my heart, the flow of life through my ancient veins. This body distracted me so, stole my thoughts and replaced them with unreliable things such as feelings and wants. I felt so out of place in this world, in my own skin; I had painfully outgrown myself. And as I stood now, dressed in fine silk, the sight of myself in a life I was never meant to have stung. The Empress and I were worlds apart, yet here we stood.

Equal footing.

* * *

After a quick breakfast the Empress gestured for me to follow, leading me towards her messy desk. There she quickly searched through the large piles of paper, picking out a number of bundles.

"You are to be known as Melvil Lithon, a young noble traveling from the town of Whitecliff," she started. "Our young Melvil was sent to Dunwall by his elderly father: a well-known nobleman with deteriorating health, looking upon his son to be the family heir. However Melvil is stricken by an unknown ailment, ageing faster than his peers. Rumour has it the great Royal Physician Anton Sokolov might be able to find a cure to an illness so rare." The Empress paused, licking her lips. "So Melvil was ordered to see if he could convince the Royal Physician to help him and his family in exchange for a rare reward…

"You see, the origin of Melvil's disease is suspected to relate to something his deranged mother did, right at his birth. Dabbling with black magic in secret, Melvil's mother possessed a very rare artefact: the blood of the Outsider. Hoping to grant her son just a fraction of the Outsider's powers, she fed some of the blood to her newborn child. The remainder she hid in a family heirloom, hoping it could serve as a tether to the Void itself, strengthened by her child. When the father found out, she was executed in secret, the heirloom safely locked away to avoid any further harm to the family name. Anton Sokolov would do just about anything for such a treasure."

She presented me with a number of forged letters and legal documents. Everything had been perfectly fabricated, from the handwriting to the family name and sigil. It was all there, and none would be the wiser. No one would bat an eye at some strange hazel-eyed boy from the remote town of Whitecliff.

"You've put a lot of thought into this," I remarked.

The Empress smiled, fingers touching her lips as her eyes glazed over with memories. "I've always loved to write stories… Adventures."

"I know."

Her eyes shot up in surprise.

"You seem to forget who I am."

The Empress continued staring, her features drawn into an expression I couldn't quite place. "...Right." She straightened her back once more.

"Even as a girl you were never afraid of danger — of the world."

"I was afraid of you."

"I know _,_ " I repeated once more. The Empress observed me carefully, words on her tongue that she held captive in her mouth. "But you were brave nevertheless, in a world that isn't kind to little girls."

"Or you?"

I held my tongue, finding myself out of words to say. I knew what she'd meant, but I didn't understand why she'd said it. Was she being sympathetic towards me? Or was it something else entirely?

She spoke once more, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I'm sorry." She turned back to her desk, continuing her planning in an effort to shake the strange mood that had settled over the both of us. "You are to leave the tower and present these documents I've prepared to the guards at the entrance." She held up a small stack of legal papers. "These contain my written permission. Once these have been delivered to the front gate, Anton Sokolov will be called upon." She took a purse from a nearby drawer, searching its contents until she extracted a small vial.

"Fill this with your blood and keep it with you until you meet Anton. No one is to know about this payment." She shook the vial in front of me with each word she spoke. "Anton won't know it's your blood he's receiving — it won't matter. He'll believe it to be real when he sees that your ailment has magic spelled all over it. In return, he'll investigate whatever's wrong with you. He'll suspect the disappearance of the Outsider, along with the sudden malfunctioning of whale oil, might have something to do with your rare affliction that suspiciously started around the same time. With a bit of luck he might be able to stall or cure whatever's ailing you."

I took the vial from her, along with a small knife she'd disinfected first. Pressing the knife's edge into the palm of my hand, I pushed to draw blood. Red liquid flowed into the vial like river sludge, my gut filled with an unpleasant feeling as I watched it spill from the delicate cut.

When it was halfway full I closed the vial, watching the thick red liquid slosh in its glass container.

"You'll be staying in the tower, your case treated as highly confidential. My father will know the full truth of course, he'll be a valuable ally. I'll have to talk to Wyman about this, too. Prevent them from outing us." She retrieved another set of papers from her pile. "These are the documents regarding the whale oil issue. Father has been set on finding out the origins of the problem." She thumbed through the documents.

"We'll be directly involved with his progress; several meetings have already been held. We'll need his knowledge to assess our next move. Hopefully you'll be able to at least shed some light on several things. There are too many questions that remain unanswered."

The Empress stood and made her way to a large wooden cabinet at the other side of the room. From it she retrieved a large leather bag and some more robes. She stuffed them into the bag along with the documents she'd forged, returning to me and handing it over. After that she headed for the large windows that led to the ledge outside, opening them with one swift motion. I followed.

The sun beat down on us as the wind howled past our figures. I felt it tousle my hair and noticed how the Empress's stayed almost perfectly in place. With a deep sigh she turned to face me, eyes taking in my form one last time before smiling hesitantly.

"You'll have to be careful. The climb down is going to be dangerous, and we can't have you dying on us just yet."

"Yet," I repeated, earning me an annoyed eye-roll.

"Don't do that." Frowning up at me, I could tell she meant it.

" _Just remember_ , you're Melvil Lithon of Whitecliff. You've come here to meet with the Royal Physician on the Empress's approval," she reminded me, drilling the words into my mind.

"I understand."

She nodded before she turned to look out the window, gaze trailing the soft lines and shapes on the horizon. I noticed how the sun burned in her eyes and reflected off of her, her skin glowing. I could almost see the pulse beating its way through her veins, the thudding of her royal heart. So much like her mother's.

I followed the direction of her gaze, looking out over the unforgiving sea. Somewhere in that deep and vast expanse of water, hidden away from the corrupted societies of men, swam beasts as grand and mysterious as the ocean itself.

I had dreamt their songs, their sorrows. Had watched them bleed, bend, and break — over and over again — as men took without remorse and without giving back. The Empress had tried to change this, to free the innocent creatures from their fates. But, as most people did, she had quickly learned that the harsh reality of the world wasn't something she could easily alter. Regardless of her crown, she stood powerless as hundreds upon thousands of innocents were slaughtered for the greed and prosperity of the people. _Her_ people.

The Empress let out a sigh, eyes downcast and shoulders bearing a weight too heavy for one so young. She righted herself before turning to me, sending me another one of her brief smiles, signalling me to depart.

"Good luck." She said her goodbyes. "Mel."

I briefly returned her smile before slowly climbing up the ledge, ready for my departure. I clutched the leather bag to my side, careful to keep its contents safe. It was a very long way down, and this climb wasn't going to be easy for me without the Empress there to help.

I looked at the Empress in question one last time, before nodding once and preparing my muscles for the scale up the roof.

Knowing there would be no one to save me this time, I put every ounce of strength I had in each grab and pull. I felt the muscles on my back ripple and burn as I put them under extreme stress, relying on them to keep me from falling to what would be my certain death. I grit my teeth, progressing slowly, bit by bit, knowing that if I went too fast I'd lose what little grip I had on the smooth stones. I felt the familiar stinging in my abdomen, the wound that frustratingly limited my movements.

There were a few times when I'd almost slipped, adrenaline shooting through my system in immediate response. It sent me on a high, causing my hands to tremble from the overflowing energy that I felt pulsing through me. It left me in a daze, as if it wasn't truly me climbing the side of the tower, but some other deranged individual daring to risk their life in such a manner. You'd have to be absolutely mad to do this willingly. I was reminded of the many nights I'd seen the Empress climb from her chambers this exact way.

With a final pull, I hoisted myself onto the roof, my body collapsing onto the tiles with a heavy thud. I stayed there for a few minutes, allowing my heart to calm as it raced from the extreme endeavour I had forced it to undergo.

I felt relieved that I'd made it this far already; now came the much easier part of scaling down the side. I'd memorised the route the Empress had taken, knowing it would probably come in handy.

Wiping away the sweat that had collected on my brow, I stood. Dusting off the fine pants I'd been given, I urged myself not to forget to tidy up before facing the guards. A noble would never arrive at the Empress's tower covered in dirt — and pieces of said tower. It would make for quite the scandal.

Walking up to my destined path, I carefully lowered myself, throwing my legs over the edge first. Supporting myself using my hands, I descended step by step before feeling secure enough to let go and shuffle on without the reinforcement of the roof.

After what felt like ages of slow-paced shuffling, I reached the bottom of the massive structure. Obscured by the large edges and pillars, I carefully dropped down onto the soft soil. I was met with an array of scents; grass, water, and mud alike. It all overwhelmed me with its intensity. I allowed myself to enjoy the earthy smells, my heart calming with a few deep breaths.

Using my hands to pat down my robes — effectively cleaning them of whatever dirt they'd picked up on my way down — I was more than ready to face the guards. Confidence surging, I went over the things the Empress had told me one last time before departing.

I took to a slow run and, albeit a bit clumsily, headed for the entrance of Dunwall tower.


	2. Bleed

Blood thundered in my ears as I steadily approached the guards who stood posted at the impressive gates of Dunwall Tower. Resisting the urge to fumble with the hem of my silken jacket, I made an effort to walk in a dignified manner. I could distinctly recall the image of nobles strutting about with their heads held high, chins raised with an aura of indignity. I imagined I was raising my chin in much the same way, taut muscles here and there under precise control in an attempt to fake the aloofness of a richly spoiled young man. Of course, reality proved to be different, my feet stubbornly unable to walk a straight line. The guards looked me over with disinterest, used to the constant throng of people wanting to speak with the Empress herself.

"Identification, please." The closest guard halted me with a stern look.

I fumbled with the leather bag that hung from my shoulder, the guard's watchful eyes carefully tracking my every move as I fished out the documents the Empress had forged. I held the papers up between my thin fingers and the burly brute took them with a fast swipe of his hand, crumpling the delicate material under the force. His beady eyes greedily scanned the contents, inspecting the family name as well as the authenticity of the paperwork.

"Alright Lord Lithon, state your business." The guard roughly pushed the paperwork against my chest and I grunted as the force pushed me back. I grit my teeth and bit back the venomous words that begged to escape my throat, annoyed at the callousness of the man.

"I've come to see the Empress." I spoke, deceptively calm and concise, searching the bag for the document pertaining the Empress's written permission. The guard eyed me warily.

"The Empress is a very busy woman; no one can speak with her unless they have an appointment plan signed by her hand." He spoke gruffly, a line he probably had to repeat over and over again each day, systematically rejecting the flock of desperate people tirelessly attempting to be heard by their ruler.

When I finally took hold of the document, I pulled it from the bag and shoved it into the guard's face with a force equal to his, startling him with my impertinence. I could tell this had irritated the man as his sight had suddenly deteriorated in the span of a few minutes, squinting at the paper in dramatic fashion. He took his time reading, minutes passing and turning like the waves. I hated how I was forced to earn permission from a simple footman posted at the gates that I now needed to cross physically. Each step reminded me of my own mediocrity, my insignificance, in a world that dwarfed me with its size.

Grumbling, the guard returned the paper to me, sending me a cross look.

"Alright, you may pass." His voice dripped with annoyance. "Pedro over here shall escort you directly to the Empress." He gestured to the other guard, who had already moved and now stood at my side.

"He's a 39A," he instructed my newly assigned guide.

Pedro nodded and gestured for me to follow him, relieving the other man of my person.

He led me through the spacious courtyard. Impressive pieces of architecture and marble statues lay scattered across the perimeter. Lush vegetation filled the air with a variation of scents, overwhelming me with their intensity, and the ever-rising sun warmed the atmosphere, turning the air hot and sticky. The heat carried the smell of wet dirt and stone drifting from the pavement. I felt hot in my skin. Burning inside of myself.

The guard came to an abrupt halt in front of two large double doors, knocking a few times until another guard opened them to peep out, checking to see who might be calling. They were like ants: scattered on the surface, but an orderly structure existing throughout their ranks, invisible to the eye.

"Ah, Pedro, how are things?" The man asked from behind the door.

"Fine — got ya a 39A." I felt Pedro's hand shove me forward, and I had to catch myself from falling as I stumbled towards the door rather clumsily. The other guard surveyed me for a moment before opening the door completely, an air of disinterest surrounding him.

"A'right, come on then." He spoke, dismissing Pedro and taking the lead from there.

Inside I was met with a large hall, the floors covered with checkered stones. Grand chandeliers decorated a ceiling that rested on high walls, towering over the people currently present. Blue draperies were hung from pillars, and a royal blue carpet covered the stairs. The air was fresh, in contrast to the courtyard. The guard led me onto the numerous steps, silently making our way up.

Once we reached the top, the guard guided me to a secluded hallway that was littered with expensive paintings of the dynasties. Royals, emperors — all made immortal by the wet strokes of a brush. We passed several checkpoints, my guide efficiently leading us through. There was a buzzing in the air, an abstract sensation that rippled and popped at one's spine. Security was a tightly controlled organism within the tower, and for good reason; most of these guards were new to this job, tragic replacements in the aftermath of death and corruption.

I keenly noted the increase of their numbers, but more didn't always mean safer. The Empress should know that better than anyone.

The morning sun, accompanied by crisp candles that flickered against the wood, lit the hallway. Something was missing, but I couldn't quite recall what. It wasn't until we passed the skeleton of a wall of light that I noticed it wasn't operative, the usual tank of whale oil absent from the structure. The Empress had informed me the oil hadn't been functioning properly, how there had been problems... I had to wonder how big these problems actually were for the people to shut down their finest security measures. I could imagine the Empress's divided relief at the dysfunction of the walls of light. She'd always despised the inventions.

After some twists and turns, and more endless hallways, the guard came to a stop in front of a dark cherry wooden door. Another guard stood stationed in front of it, his moustache and hair grey with age. "Got a 39A," my escort informed the ageing guard.

"Identification?" The man in front of me demanded. Yet again I was fumbling with the bag, attempting to retrieve the right papers. I was acutely aware of the guards' eyes burning into me, feeling a vague itch.

Pulling the documents from the bag at last, I handed them to him. They were inspected — again — before the guard handed them back over to me — again.

"Thank you Alexander, you may return to your post."

"Aye." The guards saluted each other before the one named Alexander turned and left, leaving me with the man before me. I briefly wondered if Alexander was aware that his wife had had an affair with his grey-haired chief a few months back.

"Alright Lord Lithon, the Empress is awaiting you in this room, if you would be so kind as to follow me," the old man requested, turning to open the large door behind him.

At those words my body suddenly sizzled and sparked with anticipation. This was it; would there be others in the room with her, or would she be alone? My heartbeat had increased significantly, so I instinctively shoved my hands into my pockets to hide their slight trembling. I reluctantly followed as the man stepped inside, revealing a large and well-lit room. At its center stood a wooden table almost as big as the room itself. The ceiling was decorated with lavish chandeliers and the windows framed by intricate draperies embroidered with the royal insignia.

A number of people sat at the large table, several seemingly rich nobles and a pair of unmistakable Overseers. At the head sat the Empress herself, flanked by her Royal Protector and Spymaster, Corvo Attano.

His eyes were the first to find me — standing slightly lost in the doorway, feeling terribly out of place with my hands shoved into my pockets. I could sense him silently judging me as questions started to form on his face.

"Lord Melvil Lithon." The guard introduced me to the room. Corvo's stare sharpened, as did the Overseers'.

"Your highness," he continued, "I believe you have written for this man to be sent to you as soon as possible?"

I quickly looked at the Empress, the only bit of familiarity when all the eyes in the room found themselves staring at me, the strange newcomer.

"Indeed," she replied, coming to a dignified stand, her chin raised in authority. She was the spitting image of her mother in that moment.

"Gentlemen, it appears something rather urgent has come up; I suggest we continue this meeting at a later point in time, and I offer my sincerest apologies for the abrupt interruption."

Her words were met with several protests, which she quickly cut off with no more than a sharp look at her audience.

"Dear gentlemen, I assure you I wouldn't end this meeting unless it was of absolute necessity. Now, if you would please excuse us, we have highly important matters to discuss."

The men rose, the nobles sending annoyed glances my way whilst mumbling bitter words amongst each other. I stared at the Overseers, their telltale masks strung at their waists. They stared right back, faces pulled into an assortment of annoyed grimaces. I caught the flicker of something in their eyes, and I had to work hard to maintain my mask of indifference. These were men dedicated to the hatred of me, my very being despised. They could, and would, hurt me with no remorse. They were the angry contortions, the bitterness and contempt that had fuelled the misery of my lonely banishment. I knew exactly who these men were, their thoughts and wants; they were no heroes, no examples to the people. If only the people knew the hatred they had carried through life, the hatred they had redirected onto me. I had given them a purpose, an excuse to be the way they had always been. They had climbed the ranks together, finding an equal in each other. I had watched them bestow punishment on the innocent in the name of their beliefs. Hadn't it been wonderful to watch them carve and purge their way up into the council of an Empress?

As the group left the room in an organised line, the guard left with them, saluting the Empress one last time before returning to his post. The large door closed, and the mood in the room shifted immediately. I was highly aware of Corvo's unrelenting gaze burning into my flesh.

"Alright Emily: what is this?" he asked. His gruff voice sent a rumble throughout the room that reverberated right through me. The Empress turned to her father, her face revealing her own uncertainty.

"Father, there's someone I need you to meet…" she started, hesitantly looking my way. I stayed where I was, patiently waiting until I was instructed otherwise, and more than happy to remain at a secure distance.

"An old friend," she added, sounding just as unsure of herself as she looked.

Corvo's eyes shot back to me, and suspicion painted his features. He'd see right through me. No amount of fine robes or light eyes could detract the man from the truth laid bare before him. He was a lot of things, but an idiot he was not. His eyes met a different pair now than they had in the Void, but the features were the same. Still, I was aware that my old gaze would not be so easily forgotten.

A terrible black on black.

"Emily..." Corvo started, moving to walk closer to me. He was tall — taller than I could recall. Of course my perspective had been skewed, choosing to float above him whenever I had appeared. Now I had to crane my neck so that I might look into his face. I could see the rough stubble on his cheeks, his greying hair — he looked weathered and worn out by the years, turned inside out by the past. He studied me, roving eyes taking in my features. I felt small and frail, like a mere boy next to this tower of a man.

"It can't be..." he mumbled, eyes searching mine.

"He's the Outsider," the Empress cut in, standing next to her father.

Corvo's eyes darted between the Empress and me. He looked shocked, surprised that his suspicions had turned out to be true.

"How?" he asked, moving a bit closer. His warm breath caught in mine, his musky scent penetrated and overflowed my senses. I found myself backing away, craving distance, an uncontrollable desire to move burning in my feet. Corvo noticed this, his eyebrows rising like water and eyes sharp as knives.

"We don't know. I found him on the streets, bleeding," the Empress explained. Corvo seemed lost in thought.

"We?" he repeated, turning to his daughter.

I quickly cut in, drawing the attention back to me. "Bleeding from the eyes, bleeding from the heart. We all bleed, don't we Corvo? Even the culprit of all ails and ills in the world. But who bleeds the most?"

Corvo's eyes rolled back to me, his jaw clenched and nose scrunched. He looked at me until the meaning of my words dawned on him, eyes shooting back to the Empress.

"He's the cause of the whale oil problems." It was a statement. The Empress looked at her father, a sad frown pulling at her lips.

"I think he might be, I don't know..." She turned to me — her hands held together tightly as if her joined fingers might prevent everything from falling apart. "I found him dying. He doesn't know what happened but... There's something else as well." I saw Corvo's jaw clench with tension — this was all bad news to him.

"He's gotten older..." she started, pausing a brief moment before finishing her sentence: "Fast."

Hearing the Empress vocalise these concerns to another soul suddenly made them more real to me, the rhythmic beating of my heart and steady rush of blood through my arteries now constant reminders of my mortality.

"If he grows old and dies, we might be facing bigger problems than just the malfunctioning of whale oil," Corvo supplied.

"Exactly." The Empress spoke. "Which is why we need Anton Sokolov's help in figuring out a way to stall this process."

The Royal Protector continued staring me down. "And how do you intend to hide the Outsider from the world once Sokolov has his hands on him?"

"Simple." The Empress spoke, placing one hand on her hip whilst emphasising her words with the other. "I've given him a fake name, fake family, and a fake history. He's entered the tower from the main gate, presenting his forged papers and further cementing the realness of his alibi by passing all the security checks."

Corvo didn't say anything; instead, he looked even grimmer than before. The Empress's eyes darted to me, trying to find some support. Corvo brushed back his hair with one hand, resting it on the back of his head.

"You named him Melvil Lithon."

"There wasn't any time, I had to think fast," the Empress explained.

"Think fast?" Corvo grumbled. "Emily, you named him after the great leviathan! What were you thinking?" He pinched his nose before running his hand over his face. "You might as well have named him 'Out the Sider!'"

"Father." Emily cut in, stepping up to place a hand on her father's shoulder. "No one will bat an eye. As far as we know, no one even expects this to be possible."

Corvo looked at his daughter, the lines on his face like deep cuts. They stared each other down, eyes hard and jaws set with defiance. They were having a silent argument, hardly noticeable if one wasn't paying close attention. I knew they'd do this a lot, mostly in the presence of leaders and nobles who weren't meant to be privy to the inner dealings of the Empress and her Royal Protector.

At last Corvo broke the contact, sighing and shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the floor.

"Alright." He spoke, arm lazily swung upwards in a half-hearted attempt to gesture at me. "But bringing him here was stupid either way."

"What else was I to do, Father?" The Empress raised her arms in frustration. "Leave him bleeding out in the streets?" She walked up to me, Corvo's eyes following his daughter.

"Hide him someplace unsafe with no proper way to fend for himself?" She stood next to me, challenging her father with her hands on her hips. The heat that radiated off her body distracted me, burning into my skin through the thin material of my robes. "He's defenceless, Father." She spoke, but Corvo shook his head.

"He's the god of the Void, Emily. A pariah and a demon to the Abbey." A hint of anger tinged his voice.

The Empress looked away, teeth gnashing into her lip in frustration. I stayed silent, like a faraway spectator — like I wasn't truly physically there but back in the Void again. Always alone. Always watching.

The mental and physical distance were both violently ripped from me as the Empress suddenly pulled my arm from its place, jerking me towards her father. Her hand tightly wrapped around my forearm in a vice-like grip, holding my slender limb up in the air and effectively exposing my pale, twitching hand. My heart had sped up significantly, air raggedly entering and exiting my lungs in short gasps as a reaction to the unexpected assault. My eyes darted from the surprised Royal Protector to the Empress's stern face.

"He's human, Father: a living breathing person," the Empress bit out, eyebrows pulled into a harsh scowl. The Royal Protector stood in silence, watching his daughter and me in turns, eyes lingering on my startled form as I tried to calm my thundering heart. "And he's as much a victim as you and I once were." This seemed to strike a chord with her father, whose features softened at the words.

"Emily, you can't comp-"

"He's. Human." The Empress's grip on my arm loosened, her features melting from harsh to pleading.

Corvo turned to look directly at me, his eyes exploring mine. The Empress had ripped my carefully controlled composure — my only defence — away from me, and now I felt naked under his gaze. My soul was laid bare before him and I couldn't find the strength in me to break the contact, to look away, to shut myself off from his prying gaze. So I stood, words of protest caught in my throat, and arm still forced away from me.

Relief flooded me when he was the one to look away first, turning to inspect my outstretched hand at last. I saw several incomprehensible thoughts flicker behind his gaze, until finally he straightened his back and collected himself. Outstretching his hand as well, he slowly reached for mine.

The Empress let go of my arm and I was met with the rough texture of his skin. His hand engulfed mine with ease, a feeling akin to being consumed. Corvo glared at me, held my hand in an attempt to confirm that I was indeed human. His thumb was placed over the inside of my wrist, awaiting my pulse.

His eyes narrowed the moment I knew he felt it, keenly aware of the deep thrumming of my own heart. He let go then, muttering something under his breath. I was certain I could vaguely make out the word "asshole" amongst other insults.

He threw an annoyed look over his shoulder directly at the Empress before walking up to one of the tall windows.

"So, what do we do next?" he asked, his voice gruff.

The Empress quickly glanced at me before facing her father's turned back.

"We need Anton Sokolov. Our priority is to figure out if we can buy ourselves more time." She walked back to her spot at the table where she took a seat, gesturing for me to sit down as well.

"I need you to fetch him for me, Father." The Empress spoke without looking at him. I walked up to the nearest chair and sat down, my legs thankful for the relief.

"After we've secured our deal with Sokolov, we can start focusing on why the Outsider is here and how we fix whatever's been altered by his sudden absence, including the whale oil problem."

The Royal Protector nodded at her words, hands clasped behind his back and gaze following the ships that sailed by in the distance.

"I assume I'd better fetch him right now, then?" His baritone voice rumbled across the room. The Empress looked at me then, eyes searching my face before answering her father.

"Time is of the essence."

The Royal Protector accepted her words with a single grunt and silently made his way towards the exit. He paused next to me for a brief moment, eyes curiously looking down on my form, before continuing.

I was left alone with the Empress, who let out a heavy sigh once the door closed behind her father. I watched her as she ungracefully slumped in her chair, certain that Callista would have berated her for such poor manners. Her delicate hand traveled towards her face and brushed some stray hairs aside, her movements not as controlled as they had been the day before. She looked exhausted.

Her eyes turned to the window where her father had stood, the light reflected in her dark orbs and accentuating the sharp angles of her aristocratic face.

"He was angry with me." She broke the silence. I remained quiet, awaiting her next words patiently. She didn't continue right away, choosing to offhandedly inspect her obsessively manicured nails. When she concluded that there was nothing of interest to find she let her hand drop to the table, fingers drumming on the polished surface. Her eyes met mine before she spoke again.

"I never told him about my powers." The Empress leaned forward, elbows resting on the table and face held in her pale hands. "After discovering they were gone... I knew I had to tell him." She turned to inspect the hand where her Mark had been. My Mark. "I had felt ashamed. Weak, even, for accepting such a dark gift so easily. My father had always taught me to be good, to be just and fair. But here I was, willingly submerging myself into the darkness of this world without a second thought. Even after all I'd seen, after everything Delilah had done…"

I listened intently, silently observing her many expressions: the subtle ways her face and eyes changed with each word and passing emotion. My back was straight against the chair, my hands placed just so on top of the table.

The Empress licked her lips, eyes darting from her hands to mine. "He surprised me then." Her mouth twitched into a brief smile. I felt myself almost mirroring the action as her emotions strangely started to become mine, too, as I listened on. "He wasn't angry at me for accepting your Mark, not at all." I noticed the way she fidgeted with her signet ring as she spoke of her father.

"He was angry because I hadn't trusted him enough to confide in him." She paused, a sharp intake of breath causing her chest to rise beneath her jacket, the fabric stretching across her form. "I felt incredibly upset with myself then. Not for accepting the darkness, but for disappointing the person I love the most." The Empress's gaze locked with mine, and I felt like I should say something, anything. It was the appropriate thing to do. But showing sympathy had never been my forte. Words of comfort were an incomprehensible concept to me.

Instead, I felt the strange need to reach out — to touch the hand that had once been Marked. To trace the pattern that was now absent from her skin, to feel the place where I had and hadn't existed at the same time. My eyes traveled towards the limb on their own accord, curiously searching the exposed skin. I recalled the way Corvo's had scratched against my own, a rough and unpleasant sensation. It had been so long since I had experienced human touch.

It intrigued me.

And that intrigue set the foundation of a new kind of hunger that was rapidly growing within me, churning in my insides. My lips parted and my tongue darted out to wet them, my thoughts thrumming through my mind. I noticed the Empress studying me, my eyes shooting up to meet her gaze. The air crackled, sensations overpowering my senses, my mind. I could see the curiosity that danced in her eyes, the wonder that set them alight. It was the same look she wore when watching the whales.

A sharp knock interrupted the moment.

Both turning to the swinging door in unison, we were met with her father's stern visage followed by an old and measly-looking Sokolov.

"This had better be good Corvo, I have other pressing matters at hand." The old man growled, his greying beard soaking up some of the noise. His wrinkled face was pulled into a scowl, feet shuffling to support his rickety frame. He came to a stop and searched the room, eyes locking with mine in a matter of seconds. "What's this?" he asked indignantly, bony hand directed my way.

The Royal Protector came to stand next to the old man, nodding at the Empress before speaking. "The Empress herself has given direct orders for your summoning," he explained curtly, hands clasped behind his back.

The old man's gaze snapped to the Empress, eyebrows raised in a slightly surprised scowl. "Emily dear, I do hope this is worth interrupting my current work here?" he asked, folding his arms in front of him.

The Empress stood from her seated position to greet the man as an equal, a polite smile adorning her face. "Of course, I would not dare summon you if it wasn't of the utmost importance, I assure you." Sokolov nodded appreciatively at her words. "I believe I have someone of significant interest to you, someone who might even be able to help with your current investigation into the whale oil problem." She spoke diplomatically, her face a neutral mask.

Sokolov managed to look even more surprised whilst maintaining his scowl. "Well do continue child," he urged the Empress, taking a step closer as his eyes narrowed at me with interest.

I struggled to maintain my calm as I attempted to ignore the man's greedy gaze thirstily drinking in my features. I had never appeared to this man for good reason; I wasn't very keen on meeting him now. The lengths he'd gone to in an attempt to summon me were worth no praise in my eyes, but I figured he'd have to be at least half as mad as he was genius in order to make as much scientific progress as he had. Two faces of the same coin.

The Empress gestured for Sokolov to sit down and he grouchily did her bidding, choosing to sit directly across from me whilst his gaze stayed glued to my being. The Royal Protector returned to his place next to the Empress, his gaze also locked on me in a suspicious stare. "This is Melvil Lithon. He's sailed from Whitecliff, in search of a… solution." The Empress handed some paperwork to Sokolov who greedily took it from her, eyes pouring over the writings.

I surveyed the old man, as I had finally been relieved of his unrelenting focus. I wondered if I'd look just as ragged in a few weeks, hair either white or gone. My face would be like the cliffs surrounding the tower: sharp edges and deep cracks. I'd grow stiff, joints creaking and movements jolted. My breath would be in short supply, smothered by my bodily decay. Perhaps I wouldn't even be able to walk anymore — not that I'd miss it.

I recalled Granny Rags; once the lustrous Vera Moray, until time slowly chipped away more and more pieces of her beauty and her mind alike. Like many others before her.

Sokolov's eyes shot back up at me — his lips pursed and expression intense. They flicked between the paper and me as if acutely checking that what was written was actually true. "I want to see it," Sokolov rasped directly at the Empress, who remained calm under the pressure of his demand.

She turned to me: a silent order. I knew exactly what the old man desired, his unrelenting obsession highly predictable. I reached into my bag, feeling around the bottom for the vial that had been filled with my blood. A loaded silence filled the room, the air heavy with the weight of anticipation. Slowly— carefully — I removed the vial from the leather bag. In my pale fingers I held the same glass container I'd been handed that morning, but what had once been my blood — a vibrant red — was now a deep black, the substance having turned thick and sluggish like river mud.

Sokolov held his breath, bending forward and almost climbing onto the table in his eagerness to see this strange liquid. His eyes were steadily fixed on the vial, forming themselves into thin slits. "Interesting," he mused.

I glanced at the Empress, but she seemed as surprised as I was.

Bony fingers snatched the vial from my hold, bringing it closer to Sokolov's face. The old man tilted it a few times, watching the liquid slosh in its container. Then he took hold of the lid, removing it with delicate care. Cautiously pouring a drop onto his skin, he rubbed it in between his thumb and index finger. Watching with great interest, he pursed his lips before bringing the opened vial to his ear. It appeared he was listening intently, moving the object this way and that for better reception until at last he closed it again, pocketing the black liquid in his tattered robe.

All eyes were on him, and all remained silent. He rested his elbows on top of the table and held his hands in front of him, fingertips touching. "It echoes with old magic," his voice rasped as his eyes darted to me. "It is indeed a rare artefact; if your story checks out, it might even be genuine."

It felt like a small subconscious weight had been lifted off my shoulders with the physician's approval.

"How long have you been... ill?" the old man asked. I found myself straightening as an automatic response, swallowing first to prepare my dry throat before speaking.

"A week."

Sokolov's eyebrows shot up. "A week?" he asked incredulously. "How would you even know?"

The Empress raised her hand at the physician, silencing the man so he might allow me to finish. I wasn't sure of what to say — this hadn't been my plan nor my idea. I noticed Corvo watching with barely concealed interest.

"How old are you?" the Royal Protector suddenly asked. I looked at him curiously, but he didn't show any further emotion.

"15."

The Royal Protector's eyes widened at that, but he otherwise remained silent.

"Mm," Sokolov hummed. "I suppose it could be plausible that you've matured somewhat, but I'd need to investigate further to be certain." He stroked his beard, mulling over his thoughts.

"Peculiar that you noticed this... ailment as fast as you did. Fast enough to write the Empress about it, get her approval, and travel here within that same week."

It was the Empress who cut in then.

"He had other symptoms, his father wrote right away," she assured the Physician.

Sokolov didn't look away from me, his face almost as unreadable as Granny Rags' mad scrawlings.

"Well I've never heard of your family, and more importantly..." his eyes narrowed, "I've never seen a person in the whole of the Isles with such well preserved ancient physical traits as yours."

I clenched my teeth, annoyed by the man's questions but otherwise preserving my calm demeanour. "I doubt you would know the whole of Gristol, sir, residing in that lab of yours so often — however, I assure you I share many of your concerns," I bluffed smoothly.

The physician's expression didn't change. "I'm sure you do," he grumbled, returning the stack of papers to the Empress and breaking eye contact with me. "I'll do it." He spoke directly to her, ignoring the other participants in the room.

"Thank you, Anton," she replied kindly.

"Yes, yes — I owe you." He waved his bony hand.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I didn't interrupt my travels for some senseless nanty narking; I must return to my research." The Royal Physician rigidly stood from his chair, his back crooked and unstable. "I suggest we further discuss this issue as soon as this afternoon." He turned to bow at the Empress, her Royal Protector, and lastly me — his gaze delving deep into mine, studying my reaction. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Melanie." He spoke offhandedly, immediately turning to leave after his obviously intentional error.

I glared daggers at the man's back, imagining his rickety frame snapping under my gaze, all too aware I no longer possessed any magical abilities. As the door clicked shut the Royal Protector let out a heavy sign, drawing my focus his way.

"You got lucky." He pointed fingers at the Empress and me as he spoke. "Both of you." His eyes darted between us, both remaining silent.

He was right of course. Sokolov was a hard man to fool, and I even doubted he'd been fooled at all. He knew the story had been forged and he suspected I wasn't who I said I was. I wasn't certain if he also recognised me as the Outsider, but since I'd never appeared to him directly, and his portraits had been based on the retellings of others, I gambled he hadn't.

Yet.

Corvo walked up to me then, gesturing for me to stand as he did. "You heard what Sokolov said, I'll show you to your chambers in the meantime."

My eyes shot to the Empress who was staring straight ahead, not paying attention to either of us. Slowly I stood — the chair awkwardly scraping the floor, which pulled the Empress from her thoughts.

"Are you two leaving?" she inquired, eyes darting from me to her father.

Corvo nodded, reaching to put a guiding hand on my shoulder. I felt my joints sink under the heavy weight, tendons stretching and pulling at the bones. "We'll meet in the dining room for lunch. In the meantime I'll show little 'Melanie' here to his room."

The Empress's eyes popped as she unsuccessfully tried to hide the amusement from her features, quickly gesturing for us to go ahead as she slumped down in her chair once more and thin fingers shot up to trace patterns on her temple in an attempt to collect herself.

Corvo turned then, roughly slapping my shoulder once to successfully disengage me from whatever was happening at the moment, his hand softly pushing me towards the exit of the room. Whatever I was about to say died on my lips as the man led me out, and I threw a last glance at the Empress as Corvo shut the door behind us.

He continued pushing me forward through the many hallways, his hand squeezing my shoulder far harder than was necessary. My arm prickled from the force, hand slowly becoming numb. I refused to reveal any of this to Corvo of course, stoically marching on. My features were set in a calm expression, and my back was kept stubbornly straight under the pressure of his heavy hand.

"You're 15?" Corvo's deep voice vibrated through the silence. My eyes flitted to his face only to find he was quietly watching me as we walked.

"You were how old again, Corvo? Seems like a century ago when I first visited you in that run-down pub. How time flies." I felt the pressure on my shoulder increase at my words. My amusement was short-lived, as I was roughly pushed around a corner, my poor motor skills causing me to stumble along clumsily. Corvo pulled at the fabric of my robes to prevent me from falling, dragging me further down the hall.

"You Marked my daughter," he stated suddenly, and I was caught off guard for a moment; the subject surprised me, although it shouldn't have.

"As I Marked you all those years ago."

He halted his walk, facing me down. His hand had been momentarily removed from my shoulder and I was thankful for the relief. He stared into my face and I had to crane my neck again to meet his gaze.

"Why?" he asked, eyes never leaving mine "Why help clean up a mess you enabled?" Anger seeped into his voice now.

I cocked my head as I watched how it contorted his features, deepening the shadows that had been etched into his skin by years of unspoken misery.

"I had many reasons for Marking certain people, Corvo. Beggars, assassins, aristocrats and sometimes… even Empresses." I spoke calmly. Corvo's scowl deepened, but I didn't shy away from his gaze. "I never chose whatever fate befell the people of this world, nor did I ever have the power to change the world itself."

Corvo stepped back as his eyes darkened. He glanced at the floor, the expensive blue carpet that covered the wood — worn down at places by countless passing feet. Nothing ever remained without blemish. He appeared to be processing my words as he brushed his hand through his short hair, putting it into further disarray in the process. I noticed how his shoulders had slumped somewhat, no longer rigid with the pent up fury he had most likely been carrying around ever since his beloved Jessamine had been ripped away from him.

I quietly observed him, my hands clasped behind my back as I pushed my ritual rings up and down my thin fingers. Our interactions had been sparse; I'd only spoken to him at shrines or during dreams. I had shared my observations — merely commenting on whatever paths he had chosen. He had never asked me why I did what I did: why I had chosen him or why I said the things I said. He had accepted it all, accepted that this was how his life had turned out and that he'd need to do extraordinary things in order to take back what had been cruelly taken from him. He had used my gifts effectively and mercifully, and I had watched him do so with great interest.

Now that I was mortal again, I found that things had changed — my reality had shifted — and somewhere deep inside of me I actually longed for something I could not quite put into words. But just as indescribable as it was, I also knew it was impossible.

Corvo didn't know I had seen the possible futures, had gazed upon a burning world. Perhaps it wasn't that I had cared too little, but that I had cared too much — for once. I also knew the human need for a scapegoat all too well, an easy way to relieve their suffering.

"In the end, you can't fix what's inherently broken, so you might as well bask in the rot."

Corvo's eyes shot to my face; shock marred his features. Tension pulled at the corners of his mouth, his gaze unreadable as he stared straight at me. I noticed how his jaw clenched with anger ever so slightly.

Good.

"If that's so, then why even meddle at all?" he questioned, voice low and loaded with warning.

I hesitated with my answer, thinking about his words first — the implications left between the lines. I wasn't keen on opening up to the man in front of me, or anyone else for that matter. My reasons were only for me to understand. So I went the easy route, the explanation that best served its purpose.

"Curiosity."

This would have angered most people — the uncaring god playing chess with the lives of the downtrodden out of sheer boredom — but he surprised me when his features didn't so much as twitch. He watched me in silence, his mind most likely processing the things I'd told him. The half-truths and non-answers I'd supplied. He knew there was more behind it; I could see it in the way he looked at me whenever he thought I wasn't paying attention.

Then, without warning, his warm hand roughly landed on my shoulder once more and pushed me back into motion. I stumbled forward, confused. My eyes darted across Corvo's face, but his stare remained focused straight ahead, ignoring my imploring looks. We walked faster now, my feet having a hard time keeping up without tripping over themselves.

When we reached the end of the hallway we took a few more turns, and at last came to a stop in front of a large wooden door. The Royal Protector turned to face me, his hand traveling to the knob and opening the door. He gestured for me to enter and I did so reluctantly, shooting him a suspicious look.

The room was grand, much like the Empress's. There was an adjoining bathroom and more large windows decorated the panelled walls. On the far left stood a bed covered in thick pillows and a royal blue spread. The Royal Protector stood an arm's length away, observing me with his hands behind his back.

Having inspected the room, my eyes returned to his in a silent stare down. He didn't move a muscle. I noted how his eyes and skin were darker than the Empress's, rich colours that betrayed his Serkonan descent. I waited for him to speak again, remaining taciturn with my words. He appeared to take notice, a wistful smile adorning his face as he stepped around me, eyes traveling across the room.

"There were so many things I had wanted to ask you," he started, inspecting some ornaments that rested on a nearby table. "Questions that haunted me — the burning desire to understand why you did all you had done." He continued his pacing, gaze traveling to the large windows across the room. "The things you told me at your shrines…" He paused, turning to look at me briefly as I remained at the entrance, my face composed into an unreadable mask as a plethora of emotions coursed through me. "...The things you might have told my daughter all those years ago..."

My eyebrows rose in curiosity, interested where this conversation was headed.

"...The things you told her a few months back." Corvo stopped his pacing, his back to me. He looked to his side, gaze clouded over as he stared at an empty spot in the room. I wondered what he was thinking, what he was hoping to gain by telling me these things. "Never did I consider you to be one of us. Just a person."

The cold steel surface of my rings cooled the tips of my fingers as I twisted them around, the small action comforting me. I cocked my head at the Royal Protector as I waited for him to continue what he was saying, but he never elaborated.

"I'll leave you to wind out for a bit. Lunch will be served in an hour. I assume you need to eat now. You'll be joining us in the royal dining room, located in the far east wing of the building." His directions were vague, and I had a feeling that was intentional.

He headed for the door, passing me without meeting my gaze. I watched him as he halted in the entrance, turning to briefly look me up and down one more time, his dark eyes locking with mine for a moment. And with that he exited, closing the heavy door behind him.

I was left standing in the vast room, all by myself and at a loss for what to do next. Never before had I dealt with a situation like this. I'd been alone in the Void, sure, but I'd always been able to gaze upon the world whenever I desired. Now I found myself living within said world — but more closed off from it than ever before.

I inspected the room and decided to settle for a chair near the window. I was rewarded with a breathtaking view across the grounds and the vast ocean that danced and undulated in an eternal pattern beyond them. I noticed my own reflection in the glass panes — my hair messy and unkempt, sticking out at odd angles. I reached out with one of my pale hands in an attempt to put it back in place, smoothing it down across my scalp. My effort had quite the opposite effect, leaving it looking even messier than before. I had to wonder how other people could be so effective at controlling the wild manes growing from their heads.

I sighed to myself, slumping down in the wooden chair in a relaxed position as I lazily viewed the world beyond the tower. I could see the guards patrolling, interacting when crossing paths. What were they speaking of? Some of them I saw burst into laughter, their backs shaking as they leaned on their knees for support.

Jokes I wasn't in on.

The room was stiflingly silent, the rush of my own blood deafening in my ears. I crossed my arms, noticing my hand as I did so. The hand that had wanted to reach out, that had lain on top of the table — I could still feel the cold wooden surface beneath my fingertips, the ghost of a sensation still present in my nerves. My gaze shot back to my reflection in the glass panes, my face distorted by their uneven surface. My clear eyes lit by the harsh sunlight that streamed in from the outside.

Nothing like the terrible black — yet somehow still the same.

* * *

I was late.

I'd been lost like a total fool, walking in circles in the tower's endless corridors. One didn't need the power of vague premonition to predict I'd be a total idiot at navigation. I had a nagging suspicion that Corvo hadn't given me any further directions on purpose, wasting my time deliberately.

Several guards sent me strange looks as I passed them yet again, not used to nobles from faraway countries wandering around, lost and unaccompanied. I refused to ask them for directions; my senseless ego would not allow it. Thus I wandered on, thankful that none of them interfered as I did so.

When I found my destination at last, I was met with a cocky looking Corvo and a surprised Empress sending quick, questioning glances at her father. Lunch had already been served, but they had patiently waited for me to join them. I sat down in the only empty chair available, seated across from Corvo and to the left of the Empress — who occupied the head of the large table.

I didn't say anything; waiting for them to initiate the conversation as I stubbornly intertwined my fingers in front of my lips, elbows resting on top of the table. Corvo was the first to break the silence, chuckling to himself.

"You'd think of all people, you would know the way."

I glared at the man, refusing to take the bait. The Empress let out a half-suppressed laugh from my side, clearly amused by her father's words. My gaze flitted to her — her eyes alight and cheeks rosy with amusement. When I looked back to the man sitting in front of me, I noticed his raised eyebrows, his hands clasped neatly in front of him.

"For a teenager, you don't seem very defiant," he noted.

"And for an old man, you don't seem very wise."

The Empress's eyes widened, and a hand shot up to cover her mouth in an attempt to hide her amusement. Her failure was made apparent by her shaking shoulders and the glare her father sent her for laughing at my words. I couldn't recall ever making someone laugh, but I enjoyed the pride that came with the accomplishment.

Corvo coughed once, interrupting my thoughts as he took the lids off the various plates scattered across the table, revealing a variety of foods that lay beneath.

He motioned for us to start eating, generously filling his own plate as an example. I was reluctant, only taking a few small pieces. My gaze darted to the Empress, who's slender fingers were delicately wrapped around the silverware that had bordered her plate; even Corvo ate with a controlled elegance that made it hard to believe he'd been swallowing live rats just over a decade ago.

Just my luck, eating amongst royals.

I felt self-conscious, unaware of the rules of proper etiquette. My plate was surrounded by a variety of cutlery, all in differing sizes. I noticed that my company each used the same set: the outermost pieces. I reluctantly lifted mine from the table, using the utensils to sloppily cut into a piece of soft bread. Carefully bringing the food to my mouth, I chewed it slowly. The sweetness stimulated my taste buds, but I found myself unable to enjoy it as I had previously.

The changing lights filtered through the glass panels, and the rays of the sun warmed my pale skin. I could smell the Empress from where I sat, the overly sweet scent of her perfume wafting through the warm air — distracting me. My eyes were drawn to her poised form, her knife cutting into an exotic piece of fruit. She noticed I was watching her, but before she could fully direct her attention to me I diverted my eyes back to my plate.

"So, how do you enjoy the human experience?" Corvo asked.

I ignored his imploring look, choosing to continue staring at my plate instead. Crumbs covered the thin porcelain, marring its spotless surface. Like birthmarks on smooth, pale skin.

"It's alright," I answered, disinterested in the topic.

"You should eat more; you're a growing boy after all," Corvo continued.

"Father!" the Empress protested. I found myself looking at her again, sharp features contorted into an angry glare, drawing the smooth lines into rough edges. Her eyes met mine for a brief second and the light in the room felt too bright.

"I'm not that hungry," I told the Royal Protector, meeting his gaze at last. He was looking at me strangely, his eyes completely unreadable. I didn't like the fleeting thoughts that teased me in their dark depths. I really wasn't hungry. I felt strange. The food tasted as good as it had before, yet I had no desire for it. My stomach was empty, but it felt bloated somehow. As if a small storm raged and howled within the space of my abdomen, instead.

A frown further etched the deep grooves in the Royal Protector's forehead at my continued silence. Without saying anything, he moved to add more food to my plate, carefully placing it atop the smooth surface. My eyes followed the motions, watching the breads and fruits pile up in front of me. The Empress didn't say anything about it, observing her father wordlessly instead. Corvo's eyes pulled mine to meet his stern gaze.

"I'm serious. You look skinny enough as is. You'll need as much energy as possible to help you endure whatever Sokolov's got planned for you."

"He's right," the Empress added, only to be silenced by the Royal Protector.

"Emily darling, would you mind excusing us?" His tone was gentle, but serious nonetheless.

The Empress looked as if she might protest, but seemingly decided against it after her father sent her one more look. A look I didn't recognise. She sighed as she stood from her chair, neatly placing the silverware she'd been holding back onto the table.

She left us quietly, robes bouncing with each step, her meal unfinished. Corvo looked at me tensely, his dark eyes never leaving my form. I had no idea what to expect next, but whatever it was, I wasn't very keen on the prospect. I silently poked at a piece of bread, crumbling it up into smaller pieces as I waited for the Royal Protector to speak again.

Corvo let out a heavy sigh, brushing back his salt and pepper hair with one hand. I watched his face display a myriad of emotions, each of them passing too quickly for me to catch.

"Listen," he started, face drawn.

I sat uncomfortably — too aware of myself and the chair in which I sat.

"There's a good chance Sokolov is going to see right through you. The man's a genius."

I started on my next piece.

"You're going to have to be as sharp and careful as you can..." Corvo stayed silent for a moment, but I could see the muscles in his jaw move.

"If not for the empire, then for Emily and me."

My eyes shot up to the Royal Protector, surprised at his words. He looked at me seriously, his eyebrows raised in question. I felt the urge to look at the door the Empress had just exited from, wondering why she'd been asked to leave in the first place. A warm hand came up to wrap around my arm, holding me carefully and drawing my attention back to the Royal Protector. I wet my lips, a strange sense of unease weighing heavily upon me.

"I already promised," I stated, feeling far away.

Corvo nodded. His hand withdrew slowly as he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest.

"Then get your shit together and focus."

I sent the man an incredulous look, but he raised his hand, silencing whatever was about to fly from my mouth. "Eat." With that the Royal Protector stood, taking the Empress's plate with him. "You have about 15 minutes before you'll be meeting with Sokolov. Think about what I said." Abruptly exiting the room, he left me with a plate full of crumbled bread. I sat there in silence, dejectedly staring at the pile in front of me.

My hands rose to rub at my face, covering my eyes for a few seconds as I sighed into them. I missed floating within the eternal emptiness of the Void — time was slow there. Everything happened so fast in the living world. Small gestures and stolen glances. Words spoken and faded before having been understood. I found myself at a constant delay, too inexperienced at nuance. Moments gone and dead before I lived them.

I bitterly chewed the dry and ruined bread, obeying Corvo's orders in spite of myself. I was alone again, left in the room at a table too grand for just one person. I felt tired, worn down by the day already, even though I knew I was only halfway through. I wanted nothing but to sleep: to allow my consciousness to drift and be free.

But instead, I'd be meeting with the physician. He'd see me as another opportunity to help fulfil his morbid curiosities. He'd cut and probe me, observe me as one might an animal. I knew because I'd seen him do so many times before. I'd seen how he had no second thoughts about using fellow humans as test subjects.

Filling my stomach until I felt like I might explode, nauseated by the sensation, I knew it was time to go when a short knock resounded from the door. Opening it to reveal Corvo, I noticed the Empress hadn't returned with him. I rose from my position, pushing the chair back under the table as I'd often seen people do. I slowly approached the Royal Protector, who stood waiting with his hands behind his back.

"Ready to go?" he asked gruffly.

I sent him a single nod to confirm that I was. He nodded in return and led the way, allowing me to follow of my own volition this time. I quickly fell into step with him, finding it easier to maintain my balance the more I moved. He led me through a different part of the tower, a part that felt much older. Echoes of forgotten times whispered from the walls here.

Hushed laughter; a lovers' escape.

I looked at Corvo's back, his straight posture betraying nothing of his thoughts. He walked in a straight line, feet and eyes never straying from their path. We passed a large fireplace, its stone structure ascending through the ceiling — we both knew what lay hidden beyond.

Descending a number of stairs, Corvo led me through the deepest parts of the tower; the underbelly that breathed and thrummed as imposing industrial pipes traversed the space between walls. I knew where he would take me, the whispers of magic long gone pulsating around us. Descending a final set of stairs, I found myself in the executioner's basement.

Tables stood covered with scientific equipment, filling the room to the point that it was hard to recognise. Bright lights now hung from the steel beams, powered by strange machines that stood lined up at the far left of the room. Sokolov stood between those machines, all of them buzzing with power. Thick clouds of steam escaped the metal structures, a heavy mist permanently curling against the stone ceiling. The air had an unpleasant feel to it: cold and clammy with a strange metallic taste.

Like old blood.

Corvo silently stood at my side, waiting for the Royal Physician to take notice. He did, putting his utensils down on a nearby table and wobbling up to us shortly after. His eyes were as sharp as they had been this morning, the eerie glow cast by the numerous lights bouncing off of his wrinkled features. His gaze was glued to me, sending me a strange look that sent chills down my back.

"Hello Corvo." He greeted the Royal Protector without looking away from me.

"Sokolov." Corvo acknowledged the man, not moving from his spot.

"First things first-" the old man started, skeletal fingers plucking at my blue robes. "Take those off."

I glanced at Corvo, but his eyes remained focused on Sokolov. Reluctantly, I did as the man demanded. My long fingers worked at the material of my clothes, carefully loosening the straps and buttons. Layer by layer, I removed the top part of my clothing until I was left in nothing but my pants and the bandages that covered my stomach. Sokolov watched me intently, critically observing my movements. As the last piece of fabric left my skin, his sharp eyes narrowed.

"You're too skinny for a noble." He shook his head at my protruding bones, analysing eyes studying the bandages covering my abdomen. Walking up to study me closer, he motioned for me to step into a nearby light. His hands pulled at the white material, removing it with practiced skill, revealing the nasty-looking wound hidden beneath.

The gash looked nauseating and I was certain it wasn't supposed to look like this after a week. The surrounding skin was strangely discoloured, bruised in dark patches.

"Where'd you get this?" Sokolov asked, fingers poking and prodding at the injury. I flinched as he hit a tender spot, the sharp pain overriding all my other senses.

"Accident," I bit out through the pain, my voice strained.

Sokolov hummed in response, eyebrows raised skeptically. "Well the stitch-work is rather sloppy. No rich family would hire a doctor this bad."

I clenched my teeth in annoyance, fighting to stay sharp like Corvo had urged me to. "There was no time to bring me to a doctor, I had to be stitched up on the spot."

Sokolov hummed again, moving away to retrieve some utensils from a nearby table.

A silver scalp dug into the skin surrounding the wound, a sharp and searing pain shooting through me as Sokolov cut away a small piece of flesh. Fresh, red blood seeped from the cut. Bright flashes filled my vision as my stomach lurched inside of me, causing me to almost topple over as I swallowed whatever sounds had wanted to escape my throat. A warm hand steadied me and as I turned to look at the owner I was met with Corvo's worried features. I wanted to push him off — show him I didn't need the help -— but as a cold bead of sweat traveled down my neck, causing me to shiver, I felt my head spin as the basement swam before my eyes.

I watched with unfocused vision as Sokolov put the piece of skin between two shards of thin glass, carefully sliding them underneath a microscope. He took his time studying the piece, mumbling to himself as he did. He scribbled down several words on a nearby notepad, scratching through some of them and writing new ones instead. At last he turned around, a grave look pulling his lips in a straight line. His eyes darted from me to Corvo, his fingers wrapped around the small notepad.

"The sample I just cut away from your body has reached the first stage of rigor mortis." His rasping voice cut through the damp atmosphere, chilling the air even further with his words. I felt Corvo's grip increase, his warm hand wrapped tightly around my thin arm.

"What does that even mean?" His deep voice broke, worry lacing his tones. I glanced at the man next to me, surprised at his attachment. Or more likely it was fear for the whales and the fate of the world he knew that caused his voice and hands to tremble as they did.

Sokolov stood, his curved back straining to remain balanced. His knuckles turned white as he tightly held on to the back of his chair for support. His blue eyes locked onto mine, telling me the truth before his words did.

"It means you should be dead."


	3. Feel

I wasn't surprised by the news; I'd been dead for years. I had felt the sickening flow of red silk spill from my neck, beckoned by a pointed blade. The only thing about this particular bit of non-news that irked me was the question of what this meant for my present body, suddenly acutely aware of the stubborn throb dancing between my bones.

Sokolov's bony hand motioned for me to come closer, his other staggering limb reaching for a nearby pouch, unfolding it to reveal more medical equipment. I could feel the pressure of Corvo's hand increase around my arm before fully releasing me. The man was tense.

I kept my mind as blank as possible, focusing on the information that was important as I stepped towards the physician. I was Melvil.

And I was sick.

"Sit on the table," Sokolov urged, his rasping timbre scratching my sensitive eardrums now that I stood closer to him. I reached out to the cold metal surface nearby, pale fingers smoothing over the icy material. I carefully complied, minding to move as naturally as I could. I lifted myself up in a graceful swing that managed to surprise even me. As my limbs came to rest upon the elevated surface, I was intensely aware of the way the cold metal burned through the thin silk of my pants.

That's an odd thing isn't it? Burning cold.

I turned my eyes towards the physician who immediately got to work, noting Corvo's hulking presence behind him.

Sokolov operated in a stifling silence, occasionally rasping strange mutterings under his sour breath. I could feel the words whenever they hit my skin, their warmth rippling over the white expanse. He started by disinfecting both the wound on my abdomen and the recent cut he'd made, applying a piece of cotton soaked in alcohol. It stung, like tiny pinpricks searing into my bones. I felt my body react, muscles contracting involuntarily. I refused to allow my face to show any of the discomfort. It was petty, but I wouldn't hand the man the satisfaction that easily.

His thin fingers removed the sloppy stitchings, replacing them with trained precision. Now that the blackened wound had been closed properly, it didn't look quite as menacing as it had before.

After storing the supplies back into the leather pouch, he moved to the rest of my body. His spindly fingers turned white around the edges as he scribbled down his findings in illegible script. He asked me to stand for a bit as he carefully assessed my height, scratching the numbers down on the yellowed paper.

He peered into my ears, tested my joints, shone a light into my eyes, cut a strand of hair, and took my blood. He patiently listened to my heartbeat, closely inspected my skin and the blue veins that pulsated beneath with strange bulky tools. His frown deepened with each new revelation, conflicting thoughts flitting over and consuming his features.

The longer I stayed in that damp basement, the more accustomed I became to its darkness. An ability that had been locked away from me for centuries. I could tell my body temperature had dropped, waiting without the warmth of my robes. The places where Sokolov had touched me still sang with the memory of his skin, dry like parchment.

This wouldn't be the first time my thoughts wandered off and touched upon the darker presence at the back of my mind. The question of why I was here rang through my ears. I tried to convince myself of reasons — any reason — why this would be worth anything. A promise at my expense. But the alternative would be death, anyway.

I could hear Sokolov word several things to Corvo, who's responding rumble settled in my chest until I couldn't distinguish it from my own heartbeat.

"Strange." Sokolov's gaze darted from his notes to me. I could see Corvo attempting to decipher the almost foreign scrawlings. Sokolov stroked his beard, spindly fingers entangled in the mass that more closely resembled a cobweb than anything else. Meanwhile, the overhead lights continued to flicker, emanating a constant buzz that soaked into the walls. "You're going to have to take off the rest of your clothing," Sokolov ordered. "I need to check off a few more things."

A jittery tension settled on my forehead, my brows furrowing at the words. Moving to loosen the bands that held my pants together, my eyes never broke away from the older man's gaze. Corvo didn't move a muscle, his broad shoulders looming over the Physician and me in a silent testimony of distrust. His rigid form hung like a dark cloud in my peripheral vision.

Sokolov didn't speak as he moved with studied premeditation, much to my relief. I could feel the cold that nipped my tender flesh, leaving a broad path of goosebumps in its wake. It wasn't that I was particularly self-conscious — I had been kept unwillingly awake to witness the vilest secrets of humanity. Morals. Rules. They were nothing but a thinly veiled attempt to hide and disguise the sickness that hid throughout the world, throughout society. The true plague. I knew Sokolov understood.

Yet this was different, somehow. Something so fundamentally physical. I felt degraded, reduced to nothing but meat and bones.

Just a boy.

My eyes snapped to Corvo, finding that he had been watching my face. His gaze glinted in the half-shadows of the lab, strange shapes obscuring his features. My back was straighter than it had been before, shoulders squared as if to brace myself for impact. Sokolov's hands burned into my skin, my mind too sharply focused on his movements.

"You can redress yourself," Sokolov ordered, turning away to make some final notes.

Corvo's eyes hadn't left my face, their eerie glow reflecting from the shadows. I took the bundle of clothes and set to covering my cold limbs.

"Like I said before: you're skinny for a nobleman," Sokolov noted. "Turns out you have the knees of a beggar, to boot."

I watched the man as I redid the ties around my pants, steeling my features to prevent any hesitation from showing. "I've been sick, as you already knew. Prayed a lot."

Sokolov hummed in response, eyes not meeting mine as the scratch of his erratic scribbling filled the room. "Yes, could be." He put the papers away, the yellowed material carefully folded into one of his deep pockets. "Aside from that, you appear to be in reasonable health. Your heart sounds normal, no irregularities. The sphygmograph points to low blood pressure, but nothing to worry about. Breathing appears normal. You're skinny, which means you have an unusually low muscle mass. This makes it harder to tell how physically mature you truly are.

"However, you do exhibit several other signs of maturity, thus indicating that you might have aged faster or hit puberty sooner than most. It's hard to tell for certain until you gain a healthy weight, or until you start showing other clear signs of ageing. Regardless, that wound is not healing as it should..." I watched Sokolov's eyes cloud over, his many thoughts almost audible as he mulled over his findings. "It's almost as if... it's lacking." I saw the moment when the idea popped up, the way his face lifted and his eyes turned just a bit brighter. "Something like..."

He didn't complete his sentence, instead moving to a table at the back of the room, retrieving a container of whale oil. Except it didn't look like whale oil anymore. The vibrant blue was turning black, large dark splotches bleeding into the volatile essence. Sokolov grabbed the recently extracted vile of blood, taking the lid off as he simultaneously opened the vat. Carefully, he poured a drop of my blood into the thick oily mass, keeping his distance as he did.

The substances hissed loudly as they met — a strange and almost deafening hum bursting through the room — the vat now crackling with reinvigorated energy. Corvo took a step forward, the sounds of his boots slapping against the wet stones muted by the deafening noise. We all watched the oil light up in front of us, now as vividly blue as it had ever been.

Sokolov's bony fingers stroked his greying beard, a deep scowl distorting the sharp angles of his face. His eyes darted across the room, focusing on me with a slight tremor. He held my gaze, the whites of his eyes a strange shade in the dim lights. His lips spoke without sound, but I could read the word they wrote with their shapes.

Leviathan.

The name hung in the air between us, seeming to chill the room even further. I could feel the mood change, felt the air become thicker. I swore I also felt the rapid vibrations of Sokolov's racing heart.

"What were you thinking, Corvo?" the physician rasped, his voice quieted by the heavy implications. He shook his head, beard waving along. A bony hand came up to stroke his skull, the bald patch shining in the flickering lights. "Do you take me for a FOOL!?" the old man burst angrily, rounding on the Royal Protector. His arms were as wild as his eyes, knocking the nearby medical tools to the ground. They crashed onto the wet stones, the force taking chips out of the solid bricks. Corvo remained calm, his towering presence immovable at my side.

I watched the both of them, the one thing I best knew how to do. My feet pulled at me, tempted me. I knew I couldn't just walk away, couldn't just leave them to deal with the situation. But I wanted to.

"I think it's in both our best interests that this boy's name is _Melvil_ and he _needs_ to be cured." As Corvo spoke he emphasised certain words, narrowed eyes not leaving the shaking Physician.

Sokolov's gaze settled back to me, penetrative eyes burning. I cocked my head in interest, my face as neutral as ever. I could nearly smell the resentment radiating off of the old philosopher, the pent up frustration at my strange existence. All those years wasted, searching for a boy that never spoke to him. I felt a smirk tug at my lips, a strange satisfaction in knowing that the idea of me had tormented the man to near desperation.

I felt my instincts kick in, felt the need to confront the man that had been screaming my name in blood and death. I loathed his kind; I had died for the Sokolov's of the world. I felt the words fall from my lips before I even knew what they meant, the ease with which they came a pleasant feeling.

"Anton Sokolov: sire to 14 children, but a father to none. A brilliant mind at a terrible cost, enlightenment in exchange for the dark depravity of the soul. Fingers that turn the times into a revolution of progress, the same fingers that touch upon women as they do the cold inventions they craft. Objects close to his heart — objects from his mind.

"The stench of alcohol in his bed, his clothes, his skin. Liquors and paints. Paint on the canvas, paint dripping from his fingers, paint in the eyes of the beggar he found in the flooded slums of a place forsaken. The stench of rot still fresh on his teeth as he smiles at young Emily Kaldwin and tells her: 'Don't worry dear, here in the tower you are safe.' Don't worry dear, for I know the truest evil lies not within the high walls of Dunwall but within my hands and mind and within the flooded basement where a woman screamed and bled until she hung her head and closed eyes from which the dark paint still leaked — forever.

"The human body — like clockwork — taken apart in exchange for coin, for valuables. But those things Anton Sokolov values most lay outside of his intellectual grasp; for all the reasoning in the world he is but a cold, lonely man in search of a higher purpose that is but a lie of his own twisted imagination. A delusion of grandeur.

"How does it feel? One's biggest regrets are but feelings of little consequence. The true disease is the sickness that allows one to enact true consequence on an innocent in the name of a self-prescribed fate. But I suppose that's the curse of boredom. That, is the curse of brilliance."

I glared at the man now, feeling a shift within me, a surge of something new and strangely foreign. He cowered from me, actually cowered from the teenaged boy standing in front of him. The boy with the dark hair and light eyes and the sunken skin and protruding bones and joints that were far too worn for a body so young. I took a step forward, and another, enjoying the way the older man slinked further back, his eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. I realised he was terrified. But I knew it wasn't me that scared him.

I knew exactly what scared Anton Sokolov.

"Does it surprise you? I suppose it would not. You possess more knowledge of the world than all the people in this pretentious tower combined.

"However, I will help you expand on that knowledge. I carry names with me wherever I walk. Names you never bothered to know as you butchered them one by one. Their names. Marie-Anne, Greta, Adeline, Jane, Rosemary, Lucille, Genevieve, Keira, Blythe, Antoinette, Cora, Estelle, Julia, Leah, Nancy, Noreen, Elvira, Abby, Beatrice, Larissa, Page, Mabel, Kate, Edith, and Darlene.

"Women who came apart like clockwork at the gentle nudge of a scalpel held in your artistic fingers. Their bodies but a mere canvas for your ambitions. Women with hopes, dreams, tender skin-

"-and the knees of a beggar to boot."

Sokolov took one last cowering step back, his hand raised in front of his face as if to shield himself from my words. His mouth moved, pushing out the same word over and over again: 'Please.'

I saw within his eyes the gaps that filled with my words — the answers to all of his questions — and lastly, the understanding of what these answers meant for him. Time flowed around me in a strange and slow hum. I acted on a whim, pure feeling fuelling my muscles. I was out of the room before I even knew I was moving. Continuing forwards — keep moving forward. Keep moving.

I walked, almost ran.

I didn't look back, didn't hear what Corvo was yelling after me. This was the last power I possessed. So I ran, the hallways twisting before me like the pulsating insides of a whale hung for slaughter. I felt myself growing accustomed to the flow of twists and turns and quick jumps to avoid yet another guard on patrol. The wallpaper around me melted away to reveal greasy bricks and desperate writings, scribblings of the downtrodden. The wails of the diseased — last memories of the deceased.

And as sudden as the feeling had struck me, it disappeared. The wallpaper was back in place, my feet covered in expensive shoes.

My breathing was out of control, heart beating wildly in my heaving chest. I stood in the middle of a dark hallway, a large hand covering my shoulder. The scent that had quickly become familiar wafted from behind me, my sensitive nose picking up on it almost immediately.

"Calm down." Corvo's masculine voice spoke into my left ear. My fingers shook, thumb rubbing against the cold rings. I stared at the black boots that fit snugly around my cold feet. "Is there anything I can do?" Corvo asked, his hand still on me. Touching me.

No one ever asked if I wanted to be touched.

I glanced at him without turning around, noted the tense expression on his face. He was breathing loudly as well, had most likely ran after me. I narrowed my eyes as I felt the brewing pit within me overflow. I felt congested, overloaded — unprepared for what might spill.

And spill I would. My mouth tasted bitter from residual thoughts that still lay dormant within my mind. I carried words like mountains and knowledge like the ocean. I drowned within myself, passage after passage of empty meanings and useless memories. The dam that had held back the angry waves had crumbled at the cold prodding of a physician. And now my veins throbbed with hot blood warmed by the electrical storm that ravaged my nerves.

I knew only one release.

"'Be real and grow up.'" I spoke slowly, closely watching the man behind me. Corvo had gone completely still, his hand tightening around my bony shoulder. The hallway we stood in suddenly felt cramped. The lack of windows and ventilation made the air dry and stifling. Next thing I knew my vision exploded with white sparks, my feet dragged out from under me as I felt my shoulder land against a nearby wall with a loud bone-cracking thud.

I was on the floor, a sharp pain stung the side of my face. It took me some time to focus, to get rid of the blurry vision filled with tiny stars. I looked at Corvo, who glared at my fallen form, fists clenched tightly next to his hips. His nostrils flared, angrily staring me down. I could see the muscles in his face twitch, noticed the slight shaking of his shoulders. I reflexively flinched as he pointed a tense finger at me, the tip shaking in the air.

"Don't you fucking dare," he bit out, teeth clenched and lips curled back in anger. I could feel my cheek throbbing, and if I didn't know any better I'd think my face was swelling like a balloon. But I'd seen what punching did to people. I knew their faces never truly inflated after a punch. My fingertips touched the hot skin just to be certain.

I returned my gaze to Corvo, my emotions brewing inside of me — consuming me with their intensity. I was absolutely livid. I surprised myself as much as Corvo when the man suddenly flew back, wiping at his cheek with the hand that had just been pointing fingers at me.

My saliva glistened on his bearded face. I crawled back against the wall, sitting up straighter with the steady structure there to support my back. I continued to glare at Corvo, my heart beating in my ears. There was a strange ringing that penetrated my skull and gnawed at my brain. My face, shoulder, and torso all throbbed painfully. I could feel fresh blood trickling down my abdomen.

Corvo stared at me, surprise painting his features, wiping away the wetness with the back of his hand. He didn't say anything, his silent stare worse than his sharp words. The wall pushed harder against my back, or perhaps my back pushed harder against the wall. I felt the urgent need to disappear, to soak into the structure caging me. The thought occurred that I might be feeling overwhelmed, but I didn't possess the clarity of mind to understand what I was doing. All I knew was that I was angry, and that anger made me want to lash out. I wanted to hurt the man in front of me like I had hurt the physician.

All these words, all these people echoed through my mind. The wails and screams of souls long gone. I could see them all, remember their faces, their names, their feelings, their pleas, their families — their deaths. I was coming apart at the seams, my mind unraveling all that had been carefully wound up and stored away.

I noticed Corvo crouching down in front of me, the earlier resentment strangely absent from his face. His dark eyes kept my attention to him, spoke to me with their strange glint. My spine hurt as the wall I leaned against dug into my back, causing my legs to grow numb. Corvo's features swam before my distorted vision whilst particles still danced in the corners of my eyes.

"Are you okay?" the man asked.

What the fuck kind of question was that? I fought off the urge to spit in his face again, knowing it would most likely result in another painful cheek. His arm came up to hold onto my shoulder, but he stopped himself halfway as he suddenly appeared to think better of it. His eyes darted across my face — an annoying habit of his.

"Stop looking at me," I growled.

Corvo sighed, his hand traveling through his greying hair. His eyes didn't leave me. "What is it you need?" he asked, the calmness in his voice causing me to hesitate, to think for a second.

What I needed?

I didn't know what I needed, only what I wanted. I wanted plenty. I wanted to _not_ be me for example. I wanted to not be here. I wanted to not know what I knew and to not loathe what I loathed. I wanted to forget myself and forget everyone else. I wanted this uncontrollable anger to stop burning my insides.

I wanted…

"Fuck you!" I spat out, shoulders bumping against the wall and sending a shock of white hot pain through my body. My eyes twitched but didn't look away from the dark pair before me. Corvo simply nodded and stood, sending me a look over his shoulder.

"Come," he ordered before walking away, leaving me a heaving mess against the wall. I didn't want to follow the Royal Protector. But I didn't want to remain in the unfamiliar hallway, either. The conundrum frustrated me to no end, but I knew sitting there wouldn't be any better than what might come if I chose to obey.

And so I stood, the muscles around my shoulder protesting the movements. I knew my stitches had been torn, but I wasn't about to make a fuss about it. I wouldn't allow Corvo to know just how much his punch had wounded me. I fell into step with the broad man before me, following him with fists at my sides and teeth clenched tightly together.

The more we walked the more my anger dissipated until I was filled with a strange hollow feeling. The energy that had electrified my muscles and driven my heart to near explosion leaked out of me; my spine relaxed and wilted, causing my aching shoulders to slump. This wasn't me. This had never been me. Anger took caring and I definitely refused to care. Should I feel ashamed for allowing my emotions to overflow in such a way?

No. This hadn't been me. Something was going wrong. I was feeling. Too many feelings. It was something with Sokolov. Something to do with him. Why had he done this to me? No. It wasn't something he had done. I needed control. Control had always been my forte, the thing I did best. I thrived on control. But my anger had been about control, had it not? I had baited both men into doing what I wanted them to do. I had pulled the strings and used my knowledge for ill-suited means. Pettiness.

What was happening to me?

* * *

A number of soft knocks were the only sounds that alerted me as the door silently opened. I didn't turn to look, continuing to gaze out over the seemingly endless sea instead. I sat in a wooden chair, my bare feet propped up against the windowsill in front of me. I'd been sitting there for hours now, the physical pain of what had happened earlier still freshly present. The stars hadn't left my vision, their strange shapes hiding in the corners of my eyes.

The window showed me her pale face poking out from behind the heavy wood, checking to see if it was okay to enter. I did not meet her gaze.

I heard the delicate steps inching closer, and knew a cart of something must be following behind as I heard the wheels squeaking. She came to a halt next to me, her fine perfume filling the air around her. I knew exactly which brand she used and why she had started wearing it. I also knew that she kept a few spares hidden away in her safe room, just in case it went out of production someday.

"Hey." She spoke softly. As one might approach a child.

I didn't react to her careful greeting, eyes still focused on the dark twisting waves — they wrote my name in foam and salt, but I found myself unable to read the words. She hesitated, a soft hitch of breath betraying her nervousness. The weather was cloudy, casting the world in a sorrowful grey light, the endless shroud a vision of something akin to melancholy.

Which was utterly ridiculous.

"I brought you some food..." she started, and I could see her reflection move. "Doctor's orders."

I glanced at the cart she'd brought, the expensive silver only reflecting the dreary greyness that hung outside. I didn't feel particularly hungry anymore, the emotional overload having left me sick. The pain didn't help either. Corvo had warned me, told me to cool my burning cheek.

I hadn't.

I could see the dark bruising that had steadily spread during the past hours, my face undeniably swollen on one side. I knew she was trying to look at it; her gaze had always burned straight into me. She lifted the lid from the food, revealing a large meal that could feed at least two people. The scent, strong and sweet, hit me in the face with its intensity. She didn't say anything, waiting for a response from me instead. But I wasn't in an interactive mood, I'd had enough of people for the day. I glanced at my bare feet, my pale toes covered in tiny scars. Some I remembered, but most I didn't.

"What did you say to my father?" The question was sudden.

I didn't bother to look at her, my glare pointed toward the waves instead. If I listened closely enough, I could hear the hidden tunes that traveled all this way, even through glass.

"I'm talk-"

"Go," I cut her off, my voice a deep rumble. I hardly recognised myself anymore. My hair an unkempt mess, face bruised and swollen, and my voice strangely aged. I didn't even know who I was now, and that just sounded pathetic. I could hear the songs approaching, felt them nearing in my bones. A strange hum. It crackled within me, tickling my sensitive ears.

"I can't leave until you've eaten all of this," she said, her voice hard and unrelenting.

I turned to glare at her at last, noting the mild surprise as she witnessed the extent of my bruising. She recovered quickly, schooling her features back into a stern mask.

"Doctor's orders, like I said." Her hand was on her hip, thin fingers splayed against her blue robes, the curve of her thigh accentuated by the gesture. I turned my eyes back to the window in front of me. My heartbeat had increased again, hot blood pulsing through my body. I reflexively removed my jacket, leaving me in a thin white undershirt. I felt instantly better, the stiff fabric no longer suffocating me. I turned my gaze to the food at my side, my gut protesting the large meal.

"What did you say to him?" she asked once more, her voice more insistent.

I prodded the food and watched it move away from the pressure. "It's private," I told her without turning, knowing exactly what her face would look like right now.

"Alright." A small hint of anger mixed through her otherwise careless tone. "Either you tell me, or you eat."

I rolled my eyes at her perseverance, knowing she wouldn't let this go. If there was one thing I knew about her it was that she was as stubborn as they came. All regal control and that sort of thing. I wasn't going to tell her anything. I had my reasons, as nonsensical as they sounded — even to me. That left me with only one option to stop her nagging.

I fully turned my body towards the cart, picking up the fine cutlery and ignoring the waiting Empress. I started forcing the food down my throat, small bites flushed away with the water she'd also brought. The greasy meal made me feel sick, my stomach disagreeing with the continued consumption. Pretending the Empress wasn't there was harder than I'd hoped. Her flowery scent distracted me. My keen awareness of her burning stare did me no favors, either.

I wondered if these had truly been Sokolov's orders, but without having heard them from the physician himself I could only assume they were. Would the old man have told the Empress about his assessments? Or perhaps he only informed Corvo. No, that would be silly; the Empress was in charge. She'd know everything. Would Sokolov omit how I'd lashed out? Even if he did, I was certain Corvo would tell her. Judging from her behaviour and questions, she knew almost exactly what had happened.

That meant that she knew something was up, and that she would probably try to get me to talk about it. It was just who she was. But for all the talking I usually did, I wasn't keen on talking about personal subjects. I'd opened up to her out of pure necessity — I had made myself believe. There was no need for her to know more than I'd already shared. Not about what I was feeling, at least. No, my feelings were my own — no matter how unfamiliar they were.

"You do this thing with your eyes whenever you're thinking." My gaze snapped to the woman who still stood beside me, her delicate hands leaning on the tray as she watched me "Maybe you've always done this, I just couldn't tell because they used to be so black." She bit her lip. "Your eyes, I mean."

I watched the white teeth that dug into the rosy skin of her lip, drawing my attention in. I didn't recall ever biting mine. Would it hurt? I doubted it. The teeth never appeared to pierce the skin.

"You're doing it again."

My eyes snapped back to hers in surprise, sharpening at her unwanted observations. "Don't you have a city to neglect?" I asked, leaning back into the chair. Just a few more bites and I'd be finished. The Empress's eyes narrowed, eyebrows pinching together.

"You're snappy," she commented.

I returned my attention to the food before me, twisting my fork into the foreign brew.

That's when I felt her hands push against my chest, her thin fingers brushing against my cold skin. She'd lifted my shirt before I could protest, too distracted by her sudden invasion of my personal space. "You've been bleeding this entire time?!" she looked at me with both shock and incredulity, eyebrows up to her hairline. Her fingers were wrapped around the material of my shirt, which was soaked with blood.

I did the first thing I could think of, my pale hands quickly taking hold of her narrow shoulders and pushing her back carefully — reclaiming the air around me. Her eyes had widened with surprise, a few strands of hair escaping her tidy bun and now framing her face. I quickly looked away. Back to the ocean. Back to the waves of foam and salt. My hands lay in my lap, fingers twisting the rings.

I didn't want to talk. Didn't want to be. I was too overwhelmed with being.

The scent of her perfume suddenly stung, and I just wanted to get away from it. So I stood, bare feet touching the dark wooden floor. I walked, but I had no destination. The world was full of places, but I had no place in it.

Keep walking.

I paced.

My hands felt singed by her warmth, and numb from the strange electricity that had shot through them. I'd been bleeding. Leaking blood, leaking life. I was dying, or dead. I didn't know anymore. I felt the cool touch of my rings against my throat as my hand came up to rub it, to hold it —to close it.

It was no use. I was dead. But I was moving. Walking. And she was there. Watching. Smelling — of flowers. Her shoulders warm to the touch, rounded. Her body…

In front of me, blocking my path.

She looked angry, annoyed maybe — her arms crossed in front of her, eyes spitting fire at me. "What is wrong with you?" she asked, her hand rising to accentuate her words, her hip joining the extended limb's movement. I felt my heartbeat in my neck, the veins full of my own sick blood. It was everywhere. Boiling within me. Until I exploded.

"Your perfume is too strong!" I yelled at her, my arms thrown up as if to put more force behind the words. Her eyebrows shot up quicker than I could see, her entire posture changing in the blink of an eye. I'd surprised myself as well with the sudden confession. I could feel another tickling the back of my throat, begging to be released. "And your hips annoy me!"

This seemed to confuse her even further, but it felt good to say these things. For the first time since this afternoon I felt a sense of relief, the burning inside my chest cooling somewhat. I started pacing again, my arms moving as I spoke. "And your father keeps touching me with his large ape hands!" I ranted. "And fucking Sokolov took away my clothes like the greedy son of a bitch he is!" The memory made me shudder, the feel of crusty old fingers and prune-like skin. "And my mind echoes with nothing but dead people and perfume brands!" My fists balled up in my hair now, pulling at the dark strands. "And there's fucking whales outside my window playing music!" My voice cracked as my arm shot out towards the window, motioning at the dark body of water that lay outside. My chest heaved, my lungs burning from exertion.

The Empress just stood there, watching my face with an unreadable expression.

I realised I'd complained about her perfume — twice. The air around me felt lighter, the strange heaviness that had hung over me expelled alongside the pent up frustrations. I hadn't realised I'd been bottling them up, had never had any experience with these sorts of feelings — at least as far as I could remember. I felt a small inkling of embarrassment at revealing them to the Empress before me. But I'd needed it.

Needed. Not wanted.

Her dark eyes stared at me still, mouth slightly agape. She was frowning, her face poised as if she'd just asked a question. I retracted my remaining hand from my hair, realising I'd probably messed it up even further. We continued to stare at each other in silence, apparently both at a loss for what to say.

And then I was surprised by the sound of soft laughter. The Empress's shoulders shook, her eyes alight with amusement. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, confused at her sudden change of temper. This seemed to amuse her even further, shaking her head at me.

"What's so funny?" I dared ask her, suddenly aware of my lack of pockets where I might hide my hands.

She waved at me with one hand, covering her face with the other as she attempted to collect herself once more. I decided to just cross my arms instead, unexpectedly reminded of the sharp pain in my shoulder. "You're hormonal," she said, a smirk marking her amusement.

I took an offended step back, head shaking in denial. "No I'm not," I parried the statement, refusing the entire notion.

She just nodded at me, the strands of hair dancing in front of her face. I stared at the woman in front of me, the surrounding walls suddenly closer than they had been before.

She was wrong.

I had been the face of the Void for over 4000 years; to say I was hormonal was nothing short of degrading. I wasn't just some teenage boy angry at the world — was I? I turned away from her out of frustration, returning to my chair and sitting down in it once more. I stared at my distorted reflection, beyond which the sea danced and tumbled. I wasn't like them — couldn't be. I looked down at my hands, at the blue veins that branched beneath my pale skin.

"It's not just that, though." She had appeared beside me, lowering herself until she crouched next to me. She looked into my face, her features serious and lined with mild worry. "You're not really human, either."

I looked back at my veins, the life that flowed through me. If I wasn't human, then where did that leave me? Alive, but dying. I was an anomaly. An imbalance.

"You're still connected to the Void in some strange way," she theorised.

I frowned at her words. Had I become like the Eye of the Dead God? Just another Void artefact? "What makes you think that?" I tentatively asked, curious as to what she might have come up with. Her eyes danced over my face, hand rising up to take hold of mine. Her soft skin was an unfamiliar and magnetising sensation against my own.

"I recognise it from my dreams." She spoke, gaze distant. Her fingers traveled across my wrist, up my arm. The palm of her hand covered me with its heat, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "I feel it on you."

My breath was stuck in my throat, my eyes glued to hers. She looked up at me, her dark lashes accentuating her expressive stare like a gilt frame on a painting. I swallowed carefully, daring myself to continue breathing.

Her lips moved as they prepared themselves for her next words, the shiny pink skin puckering. "And…" I could see her tongue push against her pearly teeth, her hand tightly wrapped around my bicep still. "...I know hormones when I see them."

Before I could react she had risen again, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts. "You can't just do that," I protested, sounding as affronted as I felt. The Empress just continued to look down on me, eyebrows raised in mild question. I diverted my gaze, feeling oddly betrayed by her.

"And you can't just pull the floor out from under somebody, but that's another discussion entirely," she replied.

I was reminded of her face when I'd caught her, the pure shock that had been radiating off of her. I hadn't been able to touch her then. I hadn't been real. But I'd been intrigued nonetheless, wrapping my hand around her small wrist to pull her up, the faint whisper of a sensation at the back of my mind.

"You have a meeting with my father tomorrow at eleven."

I gazed out the window, noticing the darkening skies. The sun had started to set.

"I suggest you catch some sleep, get those stitches looked at first thing in the morning."

I knew I wasn't going to, the Void would freeze over before I'd willingly subject myself to Sokolov again. But I wouldn't protest her suggestion aloud. I saw her glance back at me through her reflection, her features distorted by the glass. I wondered what she was thinking about in that moment, her eyes unreadable from where I sat.

"Goodnight." Her words were soft, hanging in the air a moment before she turned away, walking towards the large doors. I didn't respond, instead watching her reflection silently as she left the room. The door clicked shut behind her, her scent still lingering around me. I slumped in my chair, feeling my lungs deflate at last. The strange tension that had slithered around me finally dissipated. So many things I didn't quite understand, couldn't grasp. But there was one thing I knew for certain.

I wouldn't sleep tonight. So I remained in the chair that had been my sole support in the hours past, the strange tunes of whale song echoing in my ears.

* * *

To say I felt fine that morning would be a complete and utter lie. In fact I did not feel fine, not even in the slightest. My body hurt all over — from my face to my shoulders, my back to my abdomen.

As if that wasn't enough, my lack of sleep that night had rewarded me with a pounding headache. The whale song had been echoing through my ears all night: the same notes for hours on end, a somber cry from beyond and below the waters of the Wrenhaven. When the sky started to lighten — the warm arrival of the sun painting the occasional cloud with a golden hue — I had completely lost all sense of time.

My stomach had started rumbling what seemed like decades ago, the lack of food the previous night causing it to audibly protest my hunger strike the day before. The physical reminder of famine left me chagrined, the sensation too unpleasantly familiar.

Was I supposed to join the royal family for breakfast again? The Empress hadn't mentioned anything of the sort the day before, so did that mean food would instead be brought here? I rested my forehead against the window, the glass cooling my skin. I'd been up watching the sea instead of catching some much needed rest. How was I expected to sleep when my thoughts constantly stirred within me. I was restless.

I felt like I stood at the precipice of something — something larger than my sort-of-human understanding could grasp. The sky looked strange to me, a blueish veil separating the clouds from the stars. I could see it move, see it dance in the winds that blew hundreds of feet above the earth. It was but the calm before the storm, and I was present at the eye. Or — if my pessimistic instincts were to be believed — I was the eye.

I closed said eyes, my skull pounding from exhaustion. I was surprised when I heard a set of soft knocks resound from the door, wondering who might come by so early.

I didn't open my eyes, nor did I lift my head from where it rested against the glass. Instead I listened. Shuffling feet entered the room followed by the same squeaking I'd heard the day before. The person paused at the door, gaze burning into my back, before reluctantly continuing forwards. I knew they could be neither the Empress nor Corvo; both possessed a much more measured walk. This person was unbalanced, and it wasn't long until their scent reached my nose — spices and old musk.

"What a rather unpleasant surprise." I spoke, my breath warming the window. "Anton Sokolov."

The old man grunted from behind, but I didn't turn to meet his haggard stare. "Empress Emily Kaldwin sent me." His voice wasn't as harsh as it had been the day before, his tone more controlled.

My interest was piqued at the mention of the Empress's name, opening my eyes and turning around to scowl at the old man. "And what made her do that?" I questioned, pinning the man with my cold gaze. I could see he was uncomfortable. Good.

He licked his lips, hands leaning onto the cart for support. I noticed how his fingers wrapped around the handle just a fraction too tight. "She asked me to attend to your stitches, said she'd noticed they'd been torn." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me, his eyes quickly taking note of the dark splotch of purple that covered my cheek. "I assume she wasn't the one responsible?" he asked, gaze flitting between my red stained shirt and my bruised face.

I snorted, turning back to the window. "None of your business." I crossed my arms, resting my feet against the windowsill once more.

The old man let out a soft sigh, his reflection moving his hand up to stroke his beard, fingers weaving through the hair. "She also mentioned something about... dead people and whales?" The physician edged toward the question cautiously.

My heart skipped a beat. So she'd told him? I returned my gaze to the old man, watching him from the corner of my eye. "I remember everything." I spoke slowly, watching the man with great care.

He nodded, eyes moving around the room as he considered what I'd said. "Everything as in...?" He was careful with his words, I noticed. A stark contrast to the day before.

"As in 4000 years of consciousness." I didn't say life, because it technically hadn't been living. I'd been nothing more than an apparition, a ghost floating in the endless depths of the Void.

The physician nodded again, clicking his tongue in thought. I turned my body fully towards the man, interested in what he might say. He appeared to take notice, unconsciously shrinking back now that my full attention was directed at him. "I thought as much," he said, eyes not meeting mine.

With that he moved around to the other side of the cart, lifting the lid to reveal a variety of medical supplies and another plate of the strange food I'd been served the day before. His bony hands wrapped around a small container filled with a black oily substance. I could hear his heavy breathing as he moved, for the first time noticing just how bad his health must be.

He walked around the cart again until he stood in front of me, motioning for me to lift my shirt. I did as he asked without comment, curious about the strange substance. The man lowered himself until he sat kneeling on the wooden floor in front of me, his entire body trembling with the effort. His eyes quickly shot up to my face, only to look away almost immediately. I had deeply unsettled him, I realised. Which was to be expected after the things I'd revealed about him — secrets he had planned to take to his grave.

"I've been up all night working on this." His voice sounded fragile now that the usual contempt was absent. His fingers dug into the substance, the movement drawing strange sounds from the black mass. "It's neutralised whale oil," he explained, lifting two fingers covered in the black sludge towards my abdomen.

I was shocked when the substance hit my skin, its cool and oily texture quickly replaced by a crackling force I did not recognise. The songs I'd been hearing all night instantly exploded in my ears, louder than I could bear. I clenched my teeth, noticing how the black substance shifted to a vivid blue on my skin, seeping into the surrounding veins and filling them with the same bright light. A pattern of white lines was drawn across my stomach, and the skin that had been held together by stitches quickly closed on its own — the wound healing in a matter of seconds.

It wasn't just visual — I could actually feel the light as it filled my vision, the world unbearably bright. The orchestra of whales sang at a crescendo, their sorrowful music thrumming through my bones and beating with the rhythm of my heart. I saw flashes, bits of memories that had been corroded. Saw Daud's ghost in the Void — noticed Billie Lurk behind him. I could hear his voice whisper in my ear, like the turning waves. I could see the streets of Karnaca — Lurk leaning against a wall. I could see rats. Dunwall. Could see the people walking the streets, ignoring me. Saw flashes of buildings, of a home, of canned foods, of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin.

And as sudden as the visions had come, they'd disappeared. The whales quieted as my vision darkened, the room coming back into focus. I was breathing heavily, beads of sweat running down my face and body. I saw Sokolov's face, his eyebrows set in a grim line, eyes following me closely. My heart beat steadily, but fast, the force of it hurting my chest. I noticed most of my pain had disappeared; my face, shoulder, and stomach all feeling warm and pleasant. I glanced at my abdomen and distantly noticed that the wound had disappeared as well, the stitches fallen to the floor. A distinct glow was still visible where the gash had been — the skin appearing lighter than the rest of my body.

I glanced up at Sokolov, who was mumbling to himself again, his oily fingers held at a distance. His eyes met mine with a sharp look, the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

"Do you know what happens after a whale is leached of all its oil?" he asked, hand leaning on the windowsill as he carefully raised himself off of the floor, his knees wobbling.

"It withers away and dies," I replied, frowning at the Physician.

He merely nodded, returning the container back to the cart.

"But I'm not a whale," I added, craning my neck to follow the man as he moved.

He shook his head, hands lifting the plate of food. "No, you're not whale," he agreed. "Whales are ancient creatures, their oil possessing many qualities our current science cannot possibly comprehend." He handed me the plate. "They can live up to hundreds of years — but take away their oil and they rot."

I reluctantly accepted the plate, my stomach leaping at the offered food.

"You're rotting, somehow — withering away." He looked at me with big eyes, stressing the importance of what he was telling me. "Something within the oil carries the same supernatural powers that bound you to the Void all those centuries ago. And something about the Void is now killing the both of you."

I knew the whales and the Void were closely connected, knew that if I was in fact a walking, talking Void artefact I'd be indirectly connected to the whales as well — as I'd always been. I also knew the power of the whales better than anyone, knew their secrets and their shared knowledge. They had always sung to me in my final resting place at the heart of the Void. Now that tether had been damaged somehow, a rip in the natural flow of things. Corrupted.

"That wound was no normal wound," Sokolov added, already busy writing down what he'd learned. "I think it's important you tell me how you got it."

I looked down at the food on my plate, the strange substance of mystery. "I don't know." I spoke earnestly, avoiding the man's gaze. I didn't remember how I'd ended up in that alley, bleeding out on the wet stones. But I had just seen flashes of memories, things that had been wiped from my mind.

I remembered seeing Lurk, not only within the Void but in Karnaca too. She'd been alive — had been there when I'd returned to the world. Had she been the one to let me go? I remembered Daud whispering in my ear, his ghost fractured and corrupted within the Void. He'd been a wandering soul, stuck there forever — initially, at least.

But the more I reached for them, the more confusing the images became. Fragments leaking into each other, convoluting my mind.

Sokolov pointed at my plate. "Eat that, it'll strengthen you up."

I looked at the mass of discoloured food before me, the cloying smell wafting up. "What is it?" I asked, moving a fork around in the substance.

Sokolov regarded me with an interested look, his eyebrows pinched together. "It's a concentrated combination of essential nutrients focused on fat and muscle gain, with a hint of oil," he explained, a teaching tone in his voice.

I lifted the fork to my mouth, tasting the same strange brew of sweet and greasy food as the day before. Except this time I was actually hungry, my stomach eager to receive the filling substance. The Physician was about to walk away, taking the cart with him, when he stopped to look at me for another moment. I continued to eat, ignoring the old man beside me.

"You're nothing like I expected." Sokolov's voice was raspy as his hands once again wrapped around the handle with a vice-like grip. I was slightly surprised by his sudden statement, though I shouldn't have been; of course _he'd_ say that.

"You mean not quite as twisted as yourself?" I questioned, gaze trained on the food before me. I noticed the soft sigh that left his lips, the sound so faint as to be almost inaudible.

"I suppose." There was something distant in his voice — something small and fragile. The high pitched squeaking of rolling wheels trailed the shuffling elder as he turned away at last and left the room, leaving me to my food and my thoughts.

There were many things for me to think about with the unexpected appearance of the Royal Physician, but I felt that my mind was much too tired of itself to truly make sense of all that thundered within the hidden recesses of my brain.

I finished the plate in record time, relieved to be rid of the agonising hunger. I deposited the porcelain onto the wooden floor, noticing the absence of pain as I bent over. I looked at the recently healed wound again, curiosity taking over. There was nothing left of the nasty gash that had decorated my stomach, the skin as smooth as it had always been before. I prodded the patch with my finger, checking to see if all was indeed right.

The pressure didn't hurt in the slightest.

Then I poked at my face and shoulder, surprised that they too felt absolutely fine. I stood from my chair, minding not to step onto the emptied plate beside it. With smoothly controlled steps, I walked towards the small adjoining bathroom. The tile was cold beneath my feet, my skin sticking to its smooth surface. I slowly walked up to the mirror that hung in the left corner, surprised by my reflection.

The bruising had disappeared entirely.

Before me stood the same person I'd seen the morning before, the sharp jawline and high cheekbones as pronounced as they had ever been. The stubborn stubble had grown yet again during the night, dusting my skin in an even darker shadow. Two bright hazel eyes stared back at me, a very minute glow still emanating from them. However the glow was not what caught my attention; that was the sight of my hair. The absolute mess sat upon my head and stuck out at all possible angles.

I let out an annoyed sigh, irritated with the unruly tresses.

I used my newly replenished energy to wash up, taking my time as I attempted to shave without cutting myself. It was folly to think I'd be able to pull that off — what with my poorly developed motor skills.

Fresh, and with a few small cuts in places hopefully no one would notice, I searched around the room for a change of clothes. I was relieved to find the Empress had thought ahead, discovering a neat bundle stashed away in a large dresser.

Changed into a new set of clothes that looked strangely similar to the previous ones — which was most likely due to them being blue — I cautiously looked out into the hallway beyond my doors. Careful to avoid guards that might trap me with small talk, I made my way towards Corvo's office. At least I tried to, once again aware that I had not been given any directions. And so I wandered, the hallways slowly turning brighter as the sun continued to rise.

I knew I'd found the right door when I confirmed the absence of guards nearby, figuring the Royal Protector would not need protecting. I knocked on the large door, not sure how hard I was supposed to hit the wood, and was surprised to discover how loud my knuckles hitting the surface actually sounded. I took a quick step back, waiting for the door to open.

It wasn't long until the face of Corvo Attano peeked out, his dark eyes quickly locking onto me. "You're early," he commented.

I realised then that I'd completely forgotten to check the time — something I'd never gotten into, or even learned for that matter — as I watched the hulking man move aside for me. He gestured for me to enter, his large hand motioning towards the opening behind him. I silently walked into the large room, Corvo following soon after and softly closing the door.

"I see you cooled that cheek, good." He motioned for me to take place at the impressive table that stood in the center of the space we now inhabited. A large map covered the dark wooden surface, and small pins were stuck all over the worn paper. I sat down, hands intertwined on top of the table as I waited for the Royal Protector to inform me of what I was doing here.

Corvo retrieved a couple of documents first, arraying them before himself as he quickly grabbed some writing tools. He sat down in the chair opposite me, dark eyes roaming whatever had already been written down on the notepad he'd retrieved. He let out a tired sigh, absentmindedly rubbing his temple with the hand that held the pen.

"Do you know how long you've been human?" he asked, now tapping his pen on the paper in front of him as he simultaneously browsed through a couple of documents.

"I have no idea," I replied honestly, watching the dissatisfied frown that pulled at his lips.

"Emily found you somewhere last week — bleeding — if I remember correctly?" His dark eyes shot up and searched mine curiously.

I nodded — a movement he soon mirrored, highlighting random strings of sentences that had already been scribbled onto the pad. "I think it's safe to assume you are a direct link to the whale oil problems; meaning something happened to trigger them before Emily found you. Can you tell me the last you remember?" he asked, the dark circles under his eyes seeming even darker in the muted light of the room. I tried to think hard about the past weeks and the newly acquired scraps of visions.

"It started with Daud," I supplied.

"Doesn't it always." Corvo grumbled as he wrote the words. I watched the ink spill from the pen, mesmerised by its flow across the paper.

"He wanted to kill me." I thought of Daud's travels across Karnaca, the people he'd met there. I had watched him change, revert to ways long forgotten, as society reminded him of the sickness he'd worked so hard to forget. "After Delilah was defeated — the Empress safely put back on the throne — Billie Lurk went out to find him." Corvo's eyes shot up at the name.

"Who's Billie Lurk?"

"A child Daud plucked from the gutter with nothing but the clothes on her back. She found him in the hands of a cult… The Eyeless."

Corvo scribbled down my every word, his attention snapping back to me at the mention of the name. "Who are the Eyeless?"

"A cult," I repeated, shooting Corvo an irritated look. "I gave Billie a set of powers."

"But you just said they planned on killing you," Corvo pointed out incredulously, staring into my eyes as he momentarily stopped writing.

I nodded. "They did." I raised my chin, purposefully curt, my eyes drawn to the windows nearby. "Daud passed shortly after convincing Billie to do it. The last I remember – the last I saw, at least – Billie entered the Void carrying the knife that had cut away who I once was: the only object in existence with the power to end me."

I could hear the distant chatter of guards within the labyrinthine halls of the tower.

"And what do you think happened after that?" Corvo asked.

I sat in silence, fingers fidgeting with the cool rings that adorned them as I considered the question. I didn't know what had happened. I had assumed Billie had attempted to kill me, causing the wound on my abdomen — but the freshly resurfaced memories hinted otherwise. The truth of the matter was that I had absolutely no idea what had happened. Why had Daud whispered my name?

"Would you have any clue as to where Billie might be?" Corvo asked suddenly.

I met the Serkonan's eyes, thinking of Billie in Karnaca, leaning against the wall. Rats in Dunwall, Empress Jessamine… "I might know a place."

"Good," Corvo exclaimed, "she's our first lead. We need her before we can tackle anything else. How many days worth of travel is this location of yours?"

I tried to think about it critically, but I found that my sense of scale and distance was just as inept as my sense of direction.

"4 hours?" It was a guess, really.

"Good. That's close." Corvo picked up the paper he'd been writing on and put it into one of the folders, ordering the remaining files as he did so.

"We leave tonight."

"We?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, 'we' — I don't know what she looks like or where to find her, and I won't barge into an assassin's home without leverage."

I frowned at my newest role, aware that — unlike her father — the Empress did know what Lurk looked like.

"Think you can mark the location on this map?" He handed me a box filled with the same pins as those that had been scattered around the map.

I nodded as I carefully took a pin from the offered box, finding it difficult to wrap my fingers around such a small object. I turned to inspect the map, trying to find a starting point that might help me figure out exactly what I was looking at. I recognised Dunwall Tower, an intricate portrait of the structure drawn onto the yellowing paper. From there I followed a path from memory, recognising landmark after landmark until I arrived at the place that had been on my mind ever since Sokolov had used the strange whale oil on me.

I planted the pin with great care, feeling Corvo's eyes follow the movement. I wasn't surprised when he let out an annoyed grunt at discovering where we'd be headed tonight — I'd be annoyed if I were him, too.

"That's just wonderful." His tone dripped with frustration.

I couldn't help but smirk, enjoying his discomfort.


	4. Time

"Explain to me again why it is _I'm_ forced to go and _you_ won't instead?" I asked as yet another book tumbled to the floor at my feet.

"Because," the Empress started as she gracefully bent down to pick up the fallen object, "Meag- I mean, Billie and I... We separated on good terms." She straightened her back, adding the book to a disorganised pile nearby. "But I'm afraid that if suddenly both my father and I just so happen to show up at her hideout — well, we'd scare her."

I was unconvinced. "You're lying. And also — why are you teaching me women's etiquette?" Another book tumbled down, much to my ever-growing frustration.

The Empress had shown up at Corvo's office quite unexpectedly. I figured the Royal Protector had been stalling me until her arrival, awkwardly attempting to make conversation. I'd raised my eyebrow at him, weary of his persistence to get me to socialise. They'd left the room together and had stood just outside the door where they whispered at each other rather conspiratorially — a few angry notes had pierced the sturdy wood that separated us — after which the Empress had led me away to a private study that I recognised from her lessons with Callista. The younger Empress had often cursed her teacher in my name here, which — given child's social standing — had been a very unbecoming habit.

Her lack of perfume had not gone unnoticed. The fact that she'd taken what I'd said to heart felt strange and slightly uncomfortable. I appreciated the gesture, but I'd never meant for her to go as far as she had with it. It wasn't that I'd disliked the scent.

"Father asked me to prepare you, but doing straight up combat training just seemed... excessive."

I narrowed my eyes, directing an intentional scowl at her. "You're calling me weak?"

"Just uncoordinated."

I couldn't argue with that; I was, and I currently wore the cuts to show for it. "Empress Emily Kaldwin the heretic, teaching the Outsider how to knit and to look and walk prettily. I, for one, cannot wait to strap on my ball gown and dazzle the Abbey." I took a few more steps, slightly stumbling as I did and causing the remaining books that rested on top of my head to come crashing down.

The Empress snorted as she looked at the miserable heap at my feet. "First off: I'm not teaching you how to knit." Her hands moved to collect the mess I'd made. "And secondly: I really do need you to take this more seriously — proper posture is the starting point for anything combat related."

I raised my eyebrows, gaze following her movements as she added the last of the fallen books to the ever-growing stack of failed attempts. "Whoever decided I needed to be trained in combat in the first place?"

"Enlighten me though;" the Empress ignored my question, "how is it possible for you to be strutting around the Void like you did, yet be a terrible walker in the real world?" She raised her chin with the inquiry, watching me with curious eyes.

"Only if you'll enlighten me on the ancient art of knitting."

The Empress groaned, annoyed at my persistent deflecting. "Believe it or not, it's generally perceived as 'okay' to actually answer a question every once in a while."

"Right, but what fun would that leave? I could just about tell you everything you ever wanted to know and you'd spend no more time thinking for yourself. Hardly sounds stimulating, does it?"

"I don't think you're deflecting as a generous attempt to keep _me_ stimulated. This has more to do with keeping _you_ stimulated."

That one caught me off guard. "You make me sound selfish."

That specific sentence triggered something within the Empress, a strange set of emotions crossing her features. "And you're saying you aren't?" she asked, voice drenched in disbelief. "You never helped anyone with anything, even though you easily could have." There was an underlying bitterness in her voice, barely noticeable.

I didn't really know what to say to that, surprised by the sudden change of mood. "I gave people magic."

This only seemed to anger her, her nostrils flaring as she bridled at the response. "Yes! You gave people magic. You randomly swept in spouting Void philosophy instead of actual answers whilst granting people _deadly_ powers. People like Daud, who assassinated my mother. Then my father — who only needed them because of _your_ poor choices — after which he ended up stuck in stone because you thought it had also been a good idea to give powers to Delilah! Well look where that got you." She laughed bitterly, her eyes dancing dangerously. I could see a slight quiver in her usually impeccable posture.

For a while I calmly observed the audacious woman in front of me, the way her narrow shoulders had squared to me confrontationally. Perhaps I should be angry. Perhaps I shouldn't. I wasn't certain. There was a truth to what she said, but to call what I had done selfish… Perhaps it had been. But then again, perhaps it hadn't. Why should the Empress understand? How could she? She had never felt what I had felt for over 4000 years, frozen in stone with the sensation of a blade against my throat. She had never seen what I had seen: the pretence of society, the underlying decay that ate at every Empire until eventually the cracks ran too deep and the structure collapsed.

I'd seen it all.

Something cold spread through me, something that chilled me enough to want to wrap my arms around myself. So I crossed them as my stoic mask slowly transformed into a bitter grimace — an ugly twist to my brow. My gaze bore into hers, traced her offended features and self-assured scowl, and for a moment she appeared to waver — a hint of doubt cracking through her resolve.

I glanced at the books, the ridiculous waste of time. What was the point of any of this? "Just because you see no purpose does not mean purpose is lacking, and just because you don't understand something does not make it inherently evil only because you justify it so.

"And what? Just because I could, I should have? And tell me then: what should I have done? Force hands? Rid the world of evil? You wish me to soak _my_ hands in blood and force in the name of some subjective morality? What of free will? What of choice?"

Where had _my_ choice been?

I didn't speak these words, these thoughts. Feelings. These were mine, and they were not meant for the Empress's ears — or anyone else's for that matter. "Grow up, Empress," I hissed, the words eerily familiar. I walked away from the woman and her judging stare and biting remarks. I knew neither where to go nor what to do. I felt stuck in time as it constantly dictated my behaviors. Time to sleep, time to get up, time to eat, time to be prodded, time to eat again, time to be questioned.

Time to be wasted.

I entered the hallways, each step helping me settle the storm that raged inside of me — the conflict awakened by the Empress's accusing words.

My name tasted bitter on the tongues of the common folk, my very existence only proof of the cruel misfortune and misery rampant in the world — I was the widely accepted catalyst. Nowadays only the deranged dabbled in the occult, carved up bones. With the increased popularity and control of the Abbey, the strange worship of me had come to a quick end. Shrines were burnt and broken, my name now only whispered in hushed fear or screamed in hateful agony. I had gotten used to being despised. There was freedom in being hated, and I had willingly allowed the world to loathe me. I had laughed and rejoiced as the dominoes of the empire continued to tip until all was leveled, and I had done so out of spite.

 _They_ had made me.

"Mel!" I could hear her calling my fake name, a name presumably nothing like my own.

I kept on walking. Turning corners and passing doors. The Empress's footsteps echoed behind me — she was running. But what was the point? Other footsteps came into earshot in front of me. Two men, if I was to be correct; heavy boots thudding loudly.

"Mel!" The Empress was nearing.

I turned another corner only to stop dead in my tracks. In front of me stood two men I wished I knew less about as I now faced them in the narrow hallways of the tower — their heavy boots halted in front of me. The sudden stop caused the white masks strung at their waists to swing, the light that streamed in from the bordering windows bouncing off of the pale material.

Fuck.

"Mel!" The Empress's voice came from around the corner, her light footsteps finally catching up to me. Her sudden silence told me she'd also seen the two men who now stood only a few feet away, their eyes drawn to their Empress.

"Empress Emily," one of them — I knew his name to be Darren — began. They both moved to salute the royal behind me. "A pleasure to run into you, Your Majesty." I could feel them watching me from the corners of their greedily gazing eyes, smug smiles on their lips.

"Overseer Darren, Overseer Marcus." The Empress greeted them in return, her tone cold and formal.

This wasn't good. Fuck.

Something tickled at the back of my mind, something dangerous. I felt the remnants of the oil, the crackling substance that still traveled my veins. It was vague — like an itch — but a sense of premonition settled over me.

A warm hand wrapped around my arm, tugging at it. It was the Empress — and I instantly knew she'd made a big mistake. I glanced at the hand that had just now damned her future with sorrowful eyes, knowing it was too late to change a thing.

"Our meeting still stands at four o'clock, but for now I apologise as you'll have to excuse us." She spoke to both men as she increased the pressure on my arm, once more trying to get me to move.

"I believe we haven't been properly introduced." Ignoring her dismissal, one of the Overseers, Marcus, addressed me instead.

Don't touch him. That was all I could think about. Don't shake his hand. I could feel a shiver scurrying up my spine, nibbling at my nerves. I knew I was expected to react, the other man's hand already rising to shake mine. I also knew these men had handled many magical objects, studied them extensively — they'd recognise the remnants of the Void on my skin. Even the Empress had — and luckily I knew this.

I had to act and I had to act now.

With as much force as I could muster, I allowed my teeth to sink into my tongue, intense pain painting my vision with familiar white spots. I started wheezing blood onto the blue carpet, the fluid spilling in red pools. My back and shoulders shuddered and convulsed, crumbling from the pain that shot through me in agonising quantities.

The two Overseers jumped back in shock, put off by the blood that continued to fall from my mouth — a vision too eerily familiar of the rat plague. I could feel the Empress trying to hold me up, both hands wrapped around me in support.

"I'm so sorry but he's very sick, he needs to see a doctor right now." She sounded panicked, her voice noticeably heightened by fear. I could feel her pull at me as she tried to get me to follow, to walk away from the wide-eyed spectators.

"Yes of course Your Majesty, please allow us to help." Overseer Darren took a step forward, reaching out towards me. I flinched away, and the Empress appeared to pick up on the gesture as she quickly declined the offer.

"No! I'm afraid it may be contagious. I've already been exposed, but it's best if no one else touches him until we've conferred with the Royal Physician on the matter." We stumbled back a few more steps, the two men's gazes following us with unreadable expressions. "I really do apologise, gentlemen." And with that, the Empress pulled me around the corner and out of sight.

We fell into a slow run — more like she ran and I stumbled — back towards the library. I could see the windows flash by, the bright lights burned into my retina. When we reached the wooden doors the Empress quickly kicked them open, very nearly throwing me inside before apparently reminding herself that I was a person capable of feeling pain and instead carefully releasing me, turning away immediately.

I stumbled to a chair, where I allowed myself to fall as she quickly closed the doors behind her, hurriedly rushing to my side. Her hands flew to my face, touched my cheeks, as her eyes frantically searched my features for other possible signs of sickness. "What's wrong?" She sounded terrified. "What just happened?"

I had a hard time keeping my eyes open, feeling dizzy and weak from pain and blood loss. "Ig bhit thongue." Speaking was a disaster if I ever knew one, each word an atrocity to pronounce. I spat more blood onto the floor, the Empress quickly moving back and out of the way to lend me more space.

"You bit your tongue?!" she asked incredulously.

I nodded sourly as I used my sleeve to wipe my face, the red blood turning it purple.

"Why?"

I slumped back into the chair, trying to focus through the pain. The blood just kept running, my mouth quickly filling up as I moved to add another red pool onto the expensive carpet.

The Empress's eyes followed me, her hands at my shoulders and ready to help.

"Cudn't touchg." I managed to spit out.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. I had to fight hard to keep my eyes from rolling back, my head and vision swimming. I raised one of my hands and used it to lift my shirt, showing my freshly healed abdomen.

The Empress's mouth fell open with shock, her fingers immediately traveled towards the exposed flesh — moving to stroke it. But as soon as they touched the smooth skin, they flew back. "It burns..." she remarked, holding her hand against her chest.

I rested my head against the back of the chair, feeling the wood dig into the back of my skull. I was relieved she'd removed her hands as fast as she had. The sensation of her fingers brushing against that bit of bared skin had been utterly titillating, the sensations rippling through my insides and reverberating against my bones. It caused my heart to lurch, and I really could not use that right now.

"How?"

I spit another mouthful of blood onto the floor, wondering irritatedly if she was going to help me with that anytime soon. "Shokolof, whgale oilw."

"It healed you?"

I nodded before resting my head again, still tingling from her touch.

"You were afraid they might feel it. The magic," she reasoned. "Like I had."

I nodded. "Sawg somthn," I added as I pointed to my head, watching the Empress's reaction.

"What, like a vision?"

Another nod. Her forehead wrinkled, eyebrows drawn towards each other. "How — how can you?"

I pointed at my stomach, at the patch of skin that still seemed to glow when looked at from the right angle.

"The whale oil…" I noticed how her fingers were slowly traveling back towards the skin again, reaching for the magic that crackled there. I was quick to swat them away, not keen on experiencing more of the new sensations my body dispensed.

The Empress sent me a questioning look, but I decided to ignore her. "Wheak."

"Yes, but it's magic," she countered. "It gives you magic." She was starting to sound excited — until something dawned on her, the small flicker of enthusiasm quickly gone from her eyes. "What did you see?"

I moved to speak but the words wouldn't come. Instead, more blood fell to the floor as my body was once again wracked with choked coughs.

"Oh god, we have to have that fixed." Her eyes searched the room for an idea, and when something occurred to her she was quick to stand and run towards the hallway. "Wait here!" she yelled as the doors closed behind her.

She was gone for only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. My hands had turned completely red as the blood ran down my skin, glistening wetly in the sunlight streaming from the windows. My vision grew increasingly darker, my throat starting to fill with clots and choke me. I could see flashes before my eyes, the white stars dancing and sparking.

When she returned she was flanked by none other than Sokolov — who moved towards me as fast as he could upon seeing me.

"By the Void!" the elder exclaimed as his eyes roved across my blood-soaked face and limbs. "What happened?"

"He bit his tongue," the Empress replied quickly, eliciting a surprised sound from the physician. Sokolov was quick to move, hands gesturing for me to open my mouth. The smell of old musk and spices filled my senses again, his dry fingers rough against my cheeks. I could feel the blood spill and run down my chin as I complied.

"This is bad." Sokolov grumbled as he let go of my face, turning to fish something out of his pocket. When his hand returned I was met with the now familiar container of neutralised whale oil. "You're lucky this even works." He spoke grumpily as his fingers urged me to open my mouth again. As I did I felt him rub the oil onto my tongue, fresh waves of pain rolling through me. "Don't swallow!" he warned me sternly, carefully watching my mouth.

I could see the glow that emanated from the wound reflected on Sokolov's features, the veins in my face lighting up and drawing strange patterns upon the glassy eyes of the physician.

The visions were short this time, expanding on the sense of premonition I'd felt earlier. Clearer images now swam through my mind, no longer the strange and distant itch they'd been before. They left a sour taste in my mouth, stronger than the oil.

When the strange burn of magic wore off I quickly spat the last remnants of blood and oil onto the carpet, turning to find the Empress watching me apprehensively from behind Sokolov. There was a strange flicker of emotion in her eyes, an unfamiliar tone in those golden depths.

"And what exactly made you bite off half your tongue?" the Royal Physician inquired curiously, his eyes capturing mine from underneath his bristly brows.

I breathed in the fresh air, relieved the wound had been closed and that I was no longer in danger of choking on my own blood. I hadn't quite known how much force was enough to break the skin, so hearing I'd severed half my tongue wasn't really a surprise as much as it was to be expected.

I was silently regarding Sokolov with a calculating look when the Empress's voice surprised me. "We ran into two Overseers. He was afraid of being touched so he bit his tongue to fake illness," she cut in.

If she was going to say anything, she might as well pay more attention to being correct. "I wouldn't call it afraid per say," I quickly objected the use of the word.

"Mhm." Sokolov grunted, eyes never leaving my face.

The Empress took a step forward, crouching down next to Sokolov and lowering herself to our level before speaking. "The whale oil, how does it work?" she asked curiously, gaze darting between my newly healed wound and the physician next to me.

Sokolov slumped back a fraction, his tense shoulders relaxing with the new position. Their two heartbeats filled my ears: one, young and fast… the other, old and slowing with decay.

"It's like a bandage." His usually gruff voice took on a friendlier tone towards the Empress. "He's magically wounded, damaged somewhere on the inside. The whale oil fights the symptoms, but not the problem."

The Empress shot the man a confused look, briefly glancing back towards me. "That doesn't explain why it's capable of healing him the way it is." I watched her sharp features dance with every word, her skin and muscles stretching across the structure of bones beneath. So full of life, still.

Sokolov inhaled a trembling breath before speaking, his eyebrows lowering along with his voice. "Humans can be hurt, Lady Emily. Gods cannot."

* * *

The Empress escorted me back to my room after Sokolov had returned to his lab. A tense silence hung between us, left over from our earlier argument. I wasn't keen on exhuming the buried discussion, I had no answers to offer her — but clearly she had other plans in mind.

Her voice broke the silence, shattering the peaceful walls we'd built around ourselves. Walls of ignorance. Walls of bliss, I'd learned. "You know, you really shouldn't run off every time something hurts you." She spoke carefully, eyes not meeting mine.

"I'm not hurt." My voice was steel, my shoulders set straight and firm — like architecture. They housed me.

The Empress took a few short breaths, moving to say something but then changing her mind multiple times. "It's just... dangerous for you to wander around like that." She sounded genuinely worried.

We arrived at our destination before I could respond, both halting at the double doors that led to my temporary quarters. Her hand reached for the doorknob, thin fingers wrapping around the polished copper. She turned it and entered without looking back, expecting me to follow faithfully. I did follow, closing the door behind me without further thought. The curtains had been partially drawn, the room darkened by the fabric.

The Empress turned to me, amber eyes aglow in the dim lighting. They stared straight into me, a storm brewing within their depths. She seemed conflicted, like she wasn't sure of what to say next. Her eyes darted back and forth for a bit before returning to my gaze at last, her teeth latched onto her lip once more.

"I know I can't pretend to understand your motivations..." She hesitated for a moment, eyes glancing down at her feet and causing her long lashes to dust over her cheeks — funny I would notice such things. "But… next time, tell me if I overstep your boundaries. For the sake of cooperation."

I didn't say anything, curiously observing the earnest look in her amber gaze. I had to wonder what had prompted this insight, this change of attitude. I knew her anger couldn't be gone, knew she would still hold me somewhat responsible for the terrible things that had happened in her life. But for some reason she'd decided to temporarily lay her opinions of me to rest. What had changed in such a short amount of time?

I merely nodded, knowing I wasn't brave enough to hear the sound of my own voice.

She sent me a small smile, hands tentatively folded in front of her as she moved to leave the room. I stepped aside, trailing her with my eyes. Her shoulder brushed against mine, that strange electricity crackling to life in the air around me, and as her eyes flew up to briefly meet my gaze I wasn't sure if it had been an accident or not.

The door closed behind her, but her presence still remained — briefly — in the form of a warm and subtle scent. _Her_ scent.

When the air settled and the silence returned, I could hear them again — their songs as sorrowful as they'd been before.

Whales.

* * *

I'd slept through the entire afternoon, my body having at last succumbed to exhaustion. I'd been surprised by how comfortable the bed had felt, unable to resist laying down for a while after allowing myself to sit on top of the soft mattress. Sleep had been empty, no dreams to plague my mind as they always seemed to do others'.

It didn't surprise me to find that lunch had been left for me whilst I slept, the silver cart neatly parked at the end of my bed. I moved the food towards the window, noticing the setting sun that burned outside. It illuminated the floorboards, painted red stripes across the room. They uncannily reminded me of the blood I'd been coughing up that morning — sanguine and vibrant.

I sat down into my usual chair, not minding that the food had long gone cold. My body happily accepted the filling substance, soon thrumming with new vigor. My eyes danced across the ocean, touched upon the tumbling waves. They shimmered like stars, orange flecks flickering to life before quickly dying down again — swallowed by dark waters.

The sun continued to drop as I watched, actual celestial stars appearing amongst the clouds. Nighttime was fast approaching. And with it, the knowledge of what I'd have to do tonight. A nervous knot constricted my stomach, my throat closing up every time I tried to swallow — suffocated. I was apprehensive to face the woman I'd faced back in Karnaca. She'd set out to kill me — and I'd happily helped her along. What would she do if she saw me again?

I was startled by a set of strong knocks, my gaze drawn towards the large doors at the other end of the room. This time it was Corvo who entered, pushing another silver cart inside — identical to the one still in the room.

"I see Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to rejoin the world of the living," he commented dryly as he steadily approached, parking the cart next to me.

He removed the lid and carelessly dumped the plate onto my lap. "Eat that. We leave in less than an hour."

I sourly watched the steaming pile of fresh brew, still satiated from the one I'd eaten not too long ago. I obeyed the older man nonetheless, munching on the tasteless goop without protest. I knew I'd need it. Especially tonight.

Corvo sighed as he pulled up another chair and sat down next to me, eyes watching the calm waters outside. I kept my gaze locked on the plate, eyes examining the substance as it transformed with each bite, the fork steadily whittling down the shrinking heap.

"Emily told me about this afternoon," Corvo's voice rumbled next to me.

I'd learned by now that tha was to be expected. I'd be more surprised if she hadn't. These people told each other everything.

Almost... everything.

I noticed Corvo's movements from the corner of my eye, his large hand disappearing into his vest. He retrieved a familiar object from the folds at his side. "I'm bringing this, just in case."

I watched the neutralised whale oil, the black goop that danced inside its container. It was nice to know that — if needed — I'd be able to recover quickly, but I had to wonder if there was a price to be paid. Whale oil was extremely toxic to humans, and my blood pumped the substance through my system as it would oxygen.

I finished the plate, returning it to the cart. I knew Corvo was watching me closely. He always did.

"You nervous?" he asked.

I turned to meet his gaze, my face carefully composed. "No." Of course I was. I had every reason to be.

Corvo nodded, slapping his hands onto his legs before standing. He reached towards the cart, retrieving two mysterious bundles. He threw one of them onto my lap, less carefully than he had the plate before it.

"What's this?" I asked as I handled the material between my thin fingers.

"Your disguise for tonight." The Royal Protector's voice was muffled, and when I turned towards him I could see he was already changing clothes.

"I had Emily test your balance; turns out we won't be sneaking around tonight. Much too risky."

I frowned at that. I'd humoured the Empress when she'd asked me to do the book exercise — I hadn't known she'd be assessing me on her father's behalf. "So now what?" I asked curiously.

Corvo pointed a finger towards the bundle sitting on my lap. "That'll do just fine in keeping us safe. Just in case."

I directed my gaze back to the mysterious package, taking it apart with care at the Royal Protector's words. Before me I found the common clothes of the civilians, muted browns mixed with yellowed whites. Folded neatly between the garments was a small black mask, oval shaped. I surveyed the small object, recognising it instantly.

"This is a visard," I spoke sceptically. "Only women wear these..."

Corvo had been tying his pants when he turned back to me, eyes shooting between my face and the mask I held between my fingers. "Typically, yes. But so do men on rare occasions."

I raised one of my eyebrows, not lowering the mask as I continued. "Two men? At the same time? Together?" I questioned the older man beside me.

Corvo switched from his fine silken shirt to the yellowed wool one he'd brought. "Two men returning from the pleasures of the Golden Cat, yes." He pulled out two used tickets, the yellow icon a familiar sight.

I glanced back at the velvet covered object, still doubting the soundness of his plan. "Why visards? Men wear all sorts of masks to the Golden Cat."

The Royal Protector rolled his eyes as he shrugged himself into a worn-looking jacket, several buttons missing from the ugly fabric. "Yes, but everyone knows that those with a visard don't speak. Which will be very important if we don't want to be bothered tonight."

"What if they question us?"

"You can speak and I'll wave alluringly." He gracefully swept one of his hands through the air, illustrating his point.

I fought a groan as I put down the mask, finally fully unfolding the clothes Corvo had brought. I changed into them and strung the mask at my waist, pointedly ignoring him as he unabashedly continued watching my every move.

He retrieved a bag of supplies from the cart before walking up to the window, opening it, and exiting with practiced care. Crouched on the ledge outside my room, he motioned for me to follow.

"I thought you said no sneaking?" No way was I going to climb out the window — again.

A large hand tightly grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me out of the sheltered room in one swift movement. I found myself forcibly pushed against the ledge, legs still hanging over the windowsill. The wind tore at my clothes, my heart beating at a dizzying pace.

"Come on," Corvo ushered sternly, his voice low and serious. With another rough pull he dragged me further onto the ledge, my legs scraping against the concrete. I grabbed his arm with shaking hands, trying to get him to release me, but he just swatted them away. "I'm not letting you go," he grit out, eyes searching the grounds below as he pulled me to my feet.

I used my hands to help push myself up, the rough bricks scraping my delicate skin. I tried my best to not look down, strangely able to sense the drop without having seen it. Corvo kept on walking in a controlled crouch, his hand tightly wrapped around my arm.

I could taste the sea, the wind carrying the waves through the air. Salt.

The moon had revealed itself, lending its faint light to help us find our way. Corvo quickly made his way around a corner, forcing me to follow along. I had started to feel lightheaded, the harsh winds constantly beating down on me — cooling me down until each sensation burned into my skin.

"Don't scream." Corvo's deep voice startled me, but before the words could sink in I felt the ledge disappear from under me. Tightly pressed against Corvo's broad figure, the icy air ripped into me as we plummeted face-first. My heart felt as it might stop as we dropped through the desolate darkness, time slowing to an agonising shudder. I fought the screams that clawed at my throat, noticed the windswept tears running from my eyes as they saw nothing but the inky blackness in front of us. And just as I was about to lose the fight against the panic that chilled my veins with ice-cold fever, we stopped.

We plunged straight into the salty waters of the Wrenhaven River. Our reckless dive had driven us to harrowing depths, my ears feeling as if they might burst from the deafening songs that resonated from the dark abyss that stretched out all around us. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to force the ear-splitting noise from my head. It was no use. I felt myself go limp, the river sucking me into an endless vortex, and as I opened my eyes I witnessed a distant flicker of light — miles upon miles away. I realised I knew it, had seen it before. A very long time ago when ships sailed no farther than the confines of their limited maps. I floated, feeling warm.

Home.

I vaguely noticed Corvo's warm hands wrapping around my wrists as they pulled me up, dragging me away from the consuming waters and their morbid songs and endless hunger. When the cold night air hit my face I felt my body respond immediately, limbs regaining their strength as they desperately fought to stay afloat. Corvo pulled me onto the shore, clothes dripping onto the cold rocks. I coughed, water streaming from my lips, escaping my lungs. Had I been breathing?

Corvo's large hand patted my heaving back, slapping against my waterlogged clothes. "You okay?" he asked, voice hoarser than usual. Salt in our throats.

I just nodded, not quite knowing how I was feeling and how I should feel, as I stared at the river that bled into the vast ocean in front of us, the black waves that continued to dance and tumble — tried to kiss my feet, tried to seduce me.

Corvo helped me up, his rough skin — cooled by the dive — an all too familiar feeling. The feeling of death. "I have a boat waiting a few miles up the coast. We walk from here." He was surveying me with a look of concern, features pulled into a worried frown.

I felt my soggy socks slopping in my shoes, an uncomfortable sensation as my skin soaked and softened. Normal people wouldn't be this affected by wet feet, I knew, their skins having hardened over time. But I was newly reborn, no calluses to protect my tender heels and toes.

It didn't help that the uneven shores we traversed sprouted with rocks and weeds. The lapping waters echoed emptily through the sinister silence. River mud stuck to my boots, sucked them in. Over the years I'd seen children trip and fall in the grating sludge, blood mixing with the sting of salt.

A small boat awaited us in the dark, hidden away in the reeds that swayed gracefully. Corvo motioned for me to wait as he approached the wooden vessel, hands searching the muddy waters for the rope that tethered it to a small pole.

I could hear the distant cries of the city, electrical surges replaced by the flicker of candles. The usual lanterns had all powered down, the streets lit only by the sliver of moon hanging in the sky. People were out nevertheless; life went on.

I entered the boat at Corvo's orders, feeling the vessel rock beneath my weight. The smells of mud and wet wood were overpowering, strong enough for me to be able to taste them upon my tongue. The Royal Protector sat down across from me, the rope discarded beneath us. A small engine sat perched behind him, easily activated by the pull of a string.

The boat roared to life and I knew we were off, no more turning back.

I was cold. My teeth chattered as the boat silently traversed the river, the winds even wilder out on the open waters. I watched the shore grow more distant with each passing second, the dark rows of weathered buildings becoming less and less detailed as we gained distance.

Corvo didn't say much, our wet clothing slowly blowing dry as we approached our destination. I wondered what he might be thinking about, his eyes unfocused as he stared ahead — avoiding mine specifically. I vaguely regretted the words I'd let slip the day before. I could see they'd easily chipped away at the burly man and — contrary to what he might expect — I wasn't actually eager to do harm.

"Billie Lurk cleaved her way through Karnaca with a cold-blooded skill and grace matched only by her mentor, Daud. However, where Daud lacked, Billie easily flourished," I murmured to the air, more out of habit than anything else.

I felt the Royal Protector's eyes on me, narrowed slits urging me to get to the point.

"Her first kill wasn't without feeling, not a murder like any other. She'd lost the love of her life on the cold cobblestone streets. The skull she'd kissed so many a night before, now broken and empty. Blood between the cracks." I looked out at the moon, the crescent that had witnessed even more of the world than I had. A lonely vessel floating in the endless mass of space. Until one day all would end. "She built her first shrine after that — she stole the shrouds from a wealthy nobleman at the old Waterfront. He'd paid for it with his life, his children indebted." I could see the familiar shapes that bloomed on the horizon, the broken down buildings that no one had bothered to repair. Perhaps too many memories still lay caged in their exposed skeletons.

"You never spoke to her, did you?" Corvo asked, his tone strangely guarded.

I met the man's gaze, lined with the sorrows common to the people that roamed this world. "I can't resurrect the dead, Corvo."

He nodded, gaze returning to the slowly approaching shore ahead of us. I looked at the mask made of velvet, the empty eyeholes. Empty eyes. Void of life, void of feeling. Had I been void of feeling? I'd forgotten what it was like, to live. Being detached from the human experience like I had been made it rather difficult to imagine what the struggles of the people felt like to them — to the actual people. Maybe I'd seen too much, my heart jaded with time.

The waves grew increasingly impetuous as we neared the landmass, its shore covered with lush growth in the wake of neglect. Corvo was efficient as he jumped from the vessel into the murky waters, dragging the boat ashore. He moved to tie the rope to a nearby pole, first testing it to make sure it stood securely. He motioned for me to follow, not commenting as we passed the ruins of the Hound Pits Pub.

I felt strange visiting here in the flesh. This wreckage filled with the remnants of slumber, dreams of other times. 15 years ago. Gone in the blink of an eye. I could still smell the alcohol that stuck to the stones, wine spilled by garish customers. The air here was strange, aged and thickened by history.

The streets were silent, the surrounding buildings in disrepair — abandoned. Rats scurried over the cracked cobbles we walked, their high pitched squeaks surrounding us as they came and went. Corvo put on his visard, clenching the button to hold it between his teeth. I followed suit, the velvet edges now framing my vision. I could feel my damp breaths against the fabric, warming it.

We took a few shortcuts, entering buildings I knew Corvo had traversed before. My clothes had dried during our trip on the boat, but sadly my feet hadn't. Each step hurt, my skin feeling as if it might tear away from the bones at the slightest pressure. In the distance I could see a few flickering candles — people that had taken up life in the ruined buildings.

The streets grew increasingly damp, the cracks beneath our feet filled with a steady level of water. Plants grew from their soggy crevices. River krusts could be heard in the distance, their strange purring making for an unsettling ambiance that suited the environment.

Old mattresses lay scattered, surrounded by empty bottles and other used containers. The entire place still reeked of plague, as if the past 15 years had never happened. This was the first time I could smell the decay that hung thickly in the air, the wet rot that seeped from the architecture. The water that now dappled the street in large pools smelled of feces and death. The air was humid but cold, and I lamented the loss of the clean air that surrounded the tower.

Each breath here was acid, burning lungs and stinging eyes.

Traveling became increasingly harder, the streets drowned in endless bodies of murky water. Corvo led me across broken structures and away from the river krusts that purred to life at our approaching forms. I tripped several times, my skin breaking whenever I failed to catch myself. Blood dripped from my arms, and I was afraid the filthy water might enter the wounds.

More lights flickered behind closed curtains, people safely confined in their broken homes. I knew we'd reached our destination when Corvo came to an abrupt halt, his features obscured by the dark mask — but I knew exactly what he was looking at.

In front of us loomed the enormous figure of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, her marble face weathered but still distinctly recognisable. As I gazed upon those chiseled features, I was reminded of the current Empress. They were so similar, yet nothing alike.

I could hear Corvo's long exhalations, saw the way his chest rose just a bit higher. I knew he wasn't over Jessamine, not even slightly, and I wondered if he ever would be. Most likely not. My gaze slowly traveled away from the monument to the paths that wound off before us. I could see the occasional bone peek out from the muddy terrain — Overseers, I knew.

Instinct took over and I passed Corvo, making my way to a place I wasn't sure I remembered correctly. He didn't question me, instead allowing me to lead as he followed in forced silence — the mask still securely in place.

We entered the large ruins in front of us, the remnants of a wealthier time. My feet moved automatically, climbing several stairs without a second thought. She would know we were coming. She'd have seen us before we even set foot inside the large structure. The flicker of candles illuminated the hallways ahead of us, the rubble that lay scattered throwing ghostly shadows across the rotting walls.

The sense of ruination hung thickly in the air, slowly seeping into our bodies as we passed through one hall after another.

I knew of a man that once traveled these floors, before the water rose. A man in the early days of his youth. He'd come from a moderate family, residing in one of the cleaner and livelier districts of Dunwall. His sharp wits and bold character had served him well in the Chamber of Commerce, quickly climbing the ranks until he found himself serving in the Imperial Court of Empress Jessamine herself. I had seen his potential. Things could have been different here in the Flooded District; ruins would have still bustled with life, the tiles polished and dry.

What a shame it was then that he fell in love with Waverly Boyle.

I'd learned a long time ago that the actions of a single man could ripple out in ways often unimaginable. I'd also learnt that Billie Lurk preferred to strike from the shadows, and that her heartbeat would be as controlled as her movements. With a swift turn I reached behind me, my hand enveloping a leather clad arm. I carefully held onto it, my eyes traveling towards the owner's face.

Billie Lurk crouched behind me with a wide eye, her other eye glowing dimly within the poorly lit room. In her captured hand she held a blade, the metal surface carefully polished and ready to sever flesh from bone.

Corvo was quick to react, removing his black mask and coming to stand between me and the dark-skinned woman. I noticed the way his eyes lingered on her eye and arm, probably wondering how she had gotten such strange alterations.

"Easy now Lurk," he warned carefully. "We mean you no harm."

Her eye flitted between me and the Royal Protector, a scowl masking her apprehension. But I had heard the quickening pace of her heart at the sight of Corvo. She was afraid. "What do you want?" She spoke venomously, her words a dangerous crawl — like a hissing snake.

I cautiously released her, increasing the distance between us. Her Void arm spasmed in the corner of my eye, warning me. Corvo sent me a look, and I hated that I knew what he meant by the simple gesture. I couldn't help the brief trembling of my fingers as I reached for the mask covering my ancient features — the face I'd worn for centuries, although slightly different now.

The muscles in my jaw ached from having been clenched shut this entire time, the removal of the mask a relief for my stressed tendons. Billie's suspicious eye bore into me, and she waited with baited breath as I slowly pulled the object away, my face gradually revealed in the candlelight.

It took her a few moments to recognise me. Confusion contorted her weathered skin and added strange shadows to her face — but the angry mask gradually faded as she started to realise just who I was. "No..." she whispered, her eye even wider than it had been before, her mouth hanging open in breathless wonder as she took a careful step forward.

Her hands rose to touch my face and I was uncannily reminded of another moment in time — unable to recall the context. The movement caused me to flinch, a reaction that had not slipped Lurk's attention. She let her hands to fall to her sides, watching me closely.

"You don't remember." It was a statement, her deep voice guarded again.

"No, he doesn't," Corvo cut in, drawing our attention back to him. "Which is why we need you."

Lurk snorted, one of her hands confidently resting on her hip. "Listen here, Royal Protector-" she spat the words angrily, "I don't know what you were hoping to find here, but you can't just come barging in here expecting me to help." She jutted her chin out indignantly.

Corvo seemed to falter at her words, his chest quickly puffing up to meet her challenge. He took a step forward, towering over the sleek woman with ease. "It's not me who wants your help." He spoke through gritted teeth, narrowed eyes flitting over the woman's features dangerously. "It's Emily." His scowl deepened, a loaded silence settling between the two of them. I could see the shift in Billie when the Empress was mentioned. I knew Billie would not refuse her.

"Oh, and that guy," Covo eventually added, throwing his arm towards me and not even turning to look

Billie's gaze returned to me, a frown drawing her dark eyebrows together. Her face softened a fraction, almost unnoticeable in the darkened hallway. "You've changed." Her voice was more tentative than I expected from her. To say I was confused by her strange attitude towards me would be an understatement. It frustrated me that I had no clue where she and I stood, socially speaking. I sensed there was something there, an understanding I wasn't yet aware of.

"Rivers change course over many lifetimes." The words tumbled from my lips, their meaning meaningless to the woman before me.

She let out a huff. "Shut up, kid." She shook her head at me, quickly glancing back at Corvo. "Come on, let's talk." She led us to a small room on another floor. It was simple, yet cosy. Notes hung scattered across the walls along with pictures of the Dreadful Wale. I saw a wanted poster of Daud sticking out of a stack of folders; she'd probably taken it with her all the way from Karnaca. The room was lit by a few candles that stood perched on an old safe, the door hanging open revealing a collection of small objects that cluttered the inside. Trinkets.

I realised that these were all she had left. She was all alone now, her ship burned to ashes along with her old mentor.

 _All things end, all things burn to ash. But you, my friend, burn bright._

She motioned for us to sit down on the pair of rickety looking chairs that stood in the corner, lowering herself onto the bunk bed that perched against the adjacent wall. The mattress creaked beneath her weight, the torn blankets bunching up as she sat down.

Corvo and I sat down carefully, each checking to ensure the chairs wouldn't break if our weight was added to them. When we were all seated across from each other, an awkward silence settled over us. The candles crackled softly in the corner, the air smelling of smoke and stale water.

Billie was the first to clear her throat and speak, eye carefully observing the both of us. "So what do you want to know?"

Corvo took the opportunity to reach into his bag, pulling out the same notebook I'd seen that morning. I narrowed my eyes at the older man; had his memory degraded or did he just like looking like some high-end detective? Maybe neither of those. "Everything you know." His eyes bored into the woman in front of us.

"Geez, talk about being non-specific, will you old man." She rolled her eye as she leaned back on the mattress. "Let's see…" She thought out loud, her gaze tracing patterns on the crumbling ceiling. "Guess it all started when I went to find Daud."

Corvo nodded; he knew this from what I'd told him earlier.

"Said he had one last job." Her dark eye settled on me, a vortex of inexplicable emotions swirling in its depths. "To kill the black-eyed bastard."

Corvo snorted at the nickname, amused at Daud's apparent dislike for me.

"I'd rescued him from the hands of a cult, the Eyeless. Real creeps. Daud knew they'd have what we needed. To kill him." She gestured to me. Corvo continued to scribble down everything she said, sometimes scratching out several words before replacing them with others.

She hesitated before continuing. "They possessed the Twin-bladed Knife used to sacrifice the Outsider 4000 years ago."

I regarded her carefully, wondering how much she might reveal of the events that had passed — judging from what I knew of her, she'd be as concise as always.

"I stole it."

"Where is it now?" Corvo immediately asked.

"I'm not finished," Lurk hissed, annoyed at the interruption and taking a moment to rethink her words before continuing. "After I got the knife… Daud passed. But I remained persistent in fulfilling his final wish." There was a slight crack in her voice, the only indication of what she might be feeling as she mentioned the death of her long-time friend. "With the knife, all that was left was to find the entrance to the Void itself. So I was led to the Royal Conservatory. Fucking bitches, those Oracular Sisters." Billie spat out the insults, crossing her arms as she did. "I found what I came for: a location."

Next to me the pen continued to scratch across the paper, Corvo minding not to interrupt again. He could be a fast learner, sometimes.

"Shindaerey North Quarry. There, the Void has opened up and merged with our world."

I could hear the pen pause momentarily, Corvo's gaze back on Billie — her red eye shining eerily in the candlelit room.

"Higher ranked Eyeless were present there — called themselves the Envisioned. Fucking loonies, if you ask me. Lost their minds in the Void mostly, and happy for it. I snuck past them — amateurs. Entered the void without a hitch. Too easy." She stared at the floor, the damaged wooden panels that barely held the place together. "I found him there. The Outsider." Her eyes briefly met mine again before focusing back on the floor.

I felt myself inching forward, trying to get closer as I watched her features — the slight twitch of her brow, the quiver of her lips.

"There wasn't even a final showdown, nothing for me to fight or kill. Just the body of a boy, silently screaming into the emptiness of the Void." Her gaze trailed over her Void arm, the dark stones twitching almost involuntarily.

I could hear it sing from where I sat.

"It wasn't right." The words had a tone of finality to them.

I glanced at Corvo as he continued writing down the sentences as they fell from Lurk's lips, wondering what might be on his mind right now.

"In my hand I held the knife capable of ending the Outsider, the black-eyed bastard we believed responsible for all the shit in the world."

That was what I'd been expecting, that was how it'd always been. So what was I doing here?

"It wasn't right." She shook her head. "And I realised there was another way. All that was needed was his name." My name, that sounded familiar. I'd known that, hadn't I? Why had I forgotten it?

"Daud did it. Whispered his name — his spirit did, anyway. He finally found peace." A slight smile briefly played on Billie's lips. But the moment was short-lived, her features back to the same passively angry look they always had.

"And you lived." She tilted her head at me, eye searching mine curiously.

But I looked away, confused. They'd both set me free. They'd decided I deserved another chance. I couldn't believe it — couldn't think Daud would do that, of all people. I remembered my taunting words, the hatred in Daud's eyes. He'd always blamed me. It's what made me dislike him in the first place. He'd blame others for his mistakes, never understanding the gravity of his actions. He'd fallen back on old habits as of late, had projected his crippling guilt onto others. Had blamed me, again.

"What then?" Corvo's voice broke through my thoughts, bringing my attention back to the dark-skinned woman.

Billie hesitated, fingers fiddling in her lap. "I took him home," she confessed.

I looked up at her in surprise, my heart suddenly pumping in my ears. Billie shrugged at the both of us, most likely at a loss for words herself. I didn't know why she'd take me with her, another mouth to feed. But I could guess there was something more to it, something perhaps even she wasn't ready to admit to.

"We traveled from Karnaca to Dunwall, slept right in this building here." I looked around the room, at the place I couldn't quite remember but still recognised. The broken wood that held the structure together, slowly eroded by water — the smell of it everywhere. "Stayed here for about two weeks. 'Till they found us."

"Who did?" Corvo interjected.

"The Envisioned." Her eyes darted through the room, scanned the papers that hung everywhere. "They surprised us — ripped through the Void, it seemed, and straight into our hide-out. Took the knife, tried to kill him with it. I thought they'd succeeded. He'd disappeared in the flash of an eye — then the whale oil problems started." Her normal hand rose to rub at her face, tracing circles at her temple. "That's all I know, alright?" She suddenly sounded tired. Weary with the world. "Now tell me what happened to you, your…" She gestured at my body.

I looked down at myself, clothed in modern day garb. Even dressed, I was unsettlingly skinny, my clothes bunching up in ways Corvo's didn't. I had to wonder if I was even capable of gaining weight — what if I was slowly disintegrating? "I'm dying." I spoke evenly, still perturbed by the assassin-turned-saviour before me.

That seemed to take her by surprise for a second, in spite of having thought me dead until now. "You don't look it," she deadpanned, brow raised sceptically.

"He's aging rapidly," Corvo supplied, still busy writing down the conclusion to the story. When he finished he put down the pen with a soft thud, finally directing his full attention back to the conversation. "Sokolov's working on it," he added.

"Sokolov's with you?" she asked in surprise.

Corvo nodded, the confirmation causing Billie to sit up straighter.

"He sailed over to help with the whale oil problem. A problem we now know the origins of, but not the solution to."

I played with my ritual rings, watching the steel surface flicker in the candlelight. I knew for certain now: I was dying faster than a normal person would. In spite of Lurk's efforts, the knife had punctured me and leeched me of the magic that had most likely allowed me to live in the first place.

No name could save me now.

"Why do you think my dying affects the whales?" I asked Lurk, not moving my eyes from the rings.

She didn't answer right away, but I could feel her gaze on me as she thought her own peculiar thoughts. "I don't know. The problems started when I thought you'd been killed. Seemed like the logical conclusion." She was earnest.

"It probably is," Corvo interjected, eyes shooting between me and Lurk. For the first time since I'd descended into the human world, an old heart pumping fresh life through ancient veins, I felt something akin to sadness. Maybe it was only a sense of disappointment, but it angered me all the same — what had I been expecting?


	5. Fear

The night air I breathed was thin, supplying me with sparse amounts of oxygen. The city had gone to sleep already, and I knew no good people stayed up past this hour. We stood at the window of the Chamber of Commerce, silently looking out over the Flooded District. Within these ruins Daud had raised his army of assassins, readied them to take out a lover — a mother. An Empress. Billie Lurk stood beside me, a low sizzle emanating from her Void arm. Like the creak of old bones.

Magic.

We'd be headed back to the tower, back to the warm shelter with its clean air. My lungs had almost gotten used to the putrid smell that seemed to cling to everything in this area. Almost. I glanced at the woman next to me, the one who'd spared my life. The years had been etched into her skin — all lines and scars. They melted into a steady pattern, a story to be told. "Come with us." I heard myself say the words before I had even known they'd been on my lips.

She sent me a strange look, her one eye tracking my face as it tried to uncover my thoughts. "I couldn't." Her words were quickly lost to the thin air, small and transient.

I tilted my head, feeling a frown tug at my lips.

Corvo interrupted, "we're housing the Outsider himself, what harm could one more heretical houseguest do?" He asked, gaze darting between Billie's eye and arm as he paused momentarily. "Besides, we need allies like you." I could see the ghost of a smirk cross her lips, eye turning towards the city that slept before us.

A slight breeze rustled our clothes and I couldn't help the shiver that ran down my body. Of course I knew Billie's answer before she even vocalised the decision, her explanation of what happened offering a clearer perspective to what I'd seen in my visions. Letting out a weary sigh, she momentarily hung her head before regarding us both with a wry look. "Alright, I'll help you out. You babies couldn't make it back home without me anyway."

Corvo made an odd choking noise, but I was certain it was supposed to be something more akin to a chuckle.

I instantly felt safer knowing Lurk would join us, the magic she still possessed the only familiarity in my current charade of a life. It also helped to know that we'd need her — somehow, someday. I wasn't sure why yet, but my premonitions had never been anything short of vague and incongruous.

After packing what little possessions she owned, a familiar piece of paper sticking out between a bunch of meaningless folders, Billie signalled for us to go. Corvo and I did not bother to don our velvet masks this time, knowing Lurk would stick to the shadows in watchful silence. The haunting trip through the Flooded District, or Rudshore Financial District as it had once been called, didn't feel as tedious as it had on the way down. We arrived at the boat shortly, my elbows bearing a few fresh scrapes. The tiny ship was a bit cramped, obviously not having been designed for more than two people. We managed to make it work nonetheless — if not without a few pairs of sore knees and cramped legs. I watched the Hound Pits Pub fade as we left it behind, its skeletal remains drawing a pattern of jagged lines against the starry sky.

15 years, and now here I was.

I was thankful for Lurk's assistance, her abilities meant I didn't need to climb the walls like Corvo did. Her twitching Void arm was securely wrapped around me as we quickly moved from one elevated surface to another. I could feel the crackle of magic sizzling through my clothes, lapping up my skin with its pinpricks. It warmed me, a pleasant hum traveling through the parts where it connected to my body. By the time we entered the familiar comfort of my appointed room, I could see the subtle flicker of sunlight on the horizon. It'd be morning soon and I could feel the heavy fog of missed sleep filling my ears and mind with static.

"You two can both stay here for now, catch some sleep first. I'll have to figure out how and where to safely keep you in the tower before anything else." He directed an apologising look at Billie, to which the former assassin nodded in quiet understanding.

I noticed the ways in which the wallpaper danced around my vision, merging together with the surrounding wood. I was exhausted. I didn't pay the other occupants of my room any further attention as I made my way towards the bed where I allowed myself to slump down, my worn out knees almost buckling on their own. The soft mattress broke my fall and my eyes immediately started to roll back — I knew staying conscious right now would be as unlikely an accomplishment as feeling the sensation of warmth within the cold crevices of the Void.

The worldly noise around me slowly started to fade and my ears filled with nothing but the lullabies I'd grown so accustomed to, my body sinking away from me as the heaviness of sleep dragged me further down.

"Move over." Lurk's voice suddenly broke through my steady descent and it took a few seconds before her words registered, my mind drowned in murky slumber.

"I'm not sharing." Her request had effectively wiped all sleep from my mind.

Billlie huffed, her good eyebrow pulled into a scowl. "You spoil easily, _Poutsider_ ," she jabbed. "Now scoot."

I glared at the woman, annoyed at her persistence. I used the moment of clarity to kick off my shoes first, after which I moved all the way to the far end of the bed — not keen on trusting anyone near me as I slept. I watched with weary eyes as she shed her outer layers of clothing before moving to lay beneath the feathery blankets, pointedly ignoring my watchful gaze. I could feel the tiny shift that traveled through the down-filled spread with every breath she took, acutely aware of her cogent ability to drive me absolutely nuts within mere seconds. I clenched my eyes shut, attempting to ignore the subtle pounding of her heart and rhythmic in- and exhalations. I tried to listen to the whales instead, the distant songs that never ceased.

"How'd you get here?" I heard her ask from beside me, her red eye emitting a faint glow that subtly reflected off the silken tapestries.

I chose to ignore the question, not in the mood for pretentious small talk on matters unimportant to my current bed-partner. At least, until I felt a cold foot connect with my calve, the impact almost sending me over the literal edge.

"I was found." I snapped, sending her an annoyed look which left her visibly unimpressed.

I really did not want to talk right now and I had the urge to just walk away again. Of course that meant leaving the warmth of the comfortable bed and my tired limbs probably wouldn't stand for such a thing. I was grateful when Lurk didn't respond and relieved that she did not attempt to ask any further questions. Her breathing was still as steady and soft as it had been before, the blankets rippling in slow waves. I turned to my side and away from her, deeply burying my face into the silken clad pillow and once more clenching my eyes shut in hopes of falling asleep. The actual thought of having to share my bed with none other than the red-eyed assassin who'd set out to murder me was an utterly humiliating one.

Firstly because she was a woman and I felt incredibly exposed, and secondly because I'd helped her on her merry way towards my own slaughter. The comfort her magic had previously brought me didn't outweigh the discomfort the sound of her constant breathing put me in, each inhalation a reminder of her presence, lingering next to my vulnerable and soon to be unaware form.

No. Sleep. I needed to sleep now. Lurk wasn't going to hurt me, the suspicion itself was silly and senseless. I'd asked her to come, she'd spared me and taken me in. She wasn't my enemy, I would do well to remember that. So I turned my thoughts to whales instead, to deep slumbering seas and waves of endless amber — and at last, the quietude of sleep took me in again.

* * *

When the Empress had amusedly told me I'd been hormonal I hadn't given it too much thought. I'd disquietly accepted the matter as yet another bump in the road. But now I found that metaphorical bump had become embarrassingly corporeal, a galling heat creeping up my tense back as I became more aware of the throbbing problem with each passing heartbeat. Said heart pounded wave after swishing wave of blood through my sensitive ears. I had been keen to notice the small changes time and a proper diet had brought me, but this newest development was a rather unwelcome side-effect.

I had balled up as much as I physically could, pulling my knees to my chest and stubbornly keeping my back turned towards the slumbering woman next to me. I knew she was waking, I could hear the subtle changes in her bodily rhythms. I kept my eyes closed, patiently waiting for it to be over. I froze when I heard her stir, my muscles involuntarily tensing up. She took in her surroundings first and I could feel the prickle of her magical gaze as it turned to look at my curled up form. She stood from the bed, stretching her muscles — several pops could be heard and I was surprised by my body's adverse reaction to the unpleasant sounds. It wasn't long until she started moving, my panic increasing with each firm step she took — undoubtedly headed in my direction. I stubbornly kept my eyes closed in hopes she'd leave me alone. She didn't — of course.

"Rise and shine beautiful!"

I was surprised by the cold air as it nipped at my skin, my last measure of preserved dignity ripped away from me. I reacted instantly and entirely on instinct, allowing myself to roll out of bed with as much uncontrolled force possible, knocking the unsuspecting woman off her agile feet.

"Hey!" I heard her exclaim in surprise as she nimbly caught herself on a nearby dresser.

I ignored her and wisely used the moment to sprint towards the bathroom, throwing the door shut behind me and leaning against it as I desperately tried to catch my breath.

I could hear her muffled voice through the wood. "Fuck's your problem?"

I tried my best to calm my racing heart, feeling my sweaty palms slip against the wood. My blood burned like fire, my body feeling unnaturally hot — too hot for all these clothes that clung to my damp skin still. I shed all articles of suffocating fabric, my naked body quickly cooling down in the open air. I longed for a cold shower, my bare feet carefully patting across the room and towards the familiar structure. When I passed a mirror I instantly noted that my body actually did look less malnourished — as I had vaguely suspected — and also a lot more mature than I was willing to accept at the present time.

My hands shot up towards the intricately crafted faucets and quickly moved to turn them, my pale fingers wrapping around the smooth material. As soon as the cold water hit my back I could feel my blood cool — the trailing droplets caressing and soothing my smouldering skin. My heart slowed and I felt my mind clearing. When I'd been sacrificed I'd been an underfed 15 year old boy who'd had to beg for scraps. My mind had been occupied only by the most basic of needs; survival. Only after my death had I had the time to ponder the other unreachable possibilities of humanity. The primal act itself had never interested me, I'd been far too tied up in the possible consequences surrounding said deed.

I knew love often had nothing to do with it, yet it always reared its ugly head at one point or another. It fascinated me in all its unobtainable impossibility, a mystery for my mind to try and fail to decipher.

These kind of wanton desires were dangerous, I knew more than most, and I hated the inability to control the actions and cravings of my own body. The biggest danger lay in the knowledge that giving in to these urges would probably feel good. But feeling good rarely equated to thinking smart. Now that my mind had been pleasantly cleared I took my time to wash up, chancing another attempt at shaving. Each small gesture and action over these past days had improved the dexterity of my hands and fingers, they were nowhere near practised — but the minute increase of control and precision with which my limbs moved was pleasant. I wrapped myself in the towel I'd used, suddenly painfully aware that my change of wardrobe was stored in the other room.

When I opened the door I was surprised by the forceful hands that tore me back into the bedroom, the form of Billie Lurk shooting past me and shutting the door behind her with a loud bang. "Been needing to piss for over half an hour!" I could hear her cuss from the other side of the walls. Then, after the toilet had been flushed, she angrily added; "Hot water better not be gone!" A dangerous warning in her tone.

I ignored the fussing woman and went to dress myself, noticing the perfectly made bed and carefully folded package of fresh clothing. My clothing, I knew.I glanced back at the door, hearing the water splash against the tiles, thinking for a moment before picking up the package that sat waiting for me on top of the orderly bed.

* * *

"I cannot believe this!" The Empress hissed, slamming down the paper on the table before us before slumping back in her chair.

We all sat gathered in her quarters, seated at a wooden table that held each of our respective plates of breakfast. Corvo had surprised us at our window, forcing me to sneak out on a ledge yet again so he could move us towards the Empress's room in secret — which was closer by than I'd previously been aware of. I'd protested the idea, reminding the middle-aged menace that there was no need for _me_ to keep hidden — unlike Lurk. He'd replied by roughly dragging me outside by my collar. Again.

I eyed the headline curiously, big bold letters pressed onto thin paper. **'EMPRESS EMILY KALDWIN AND HER FOREIGN AFFAIRS.'** It was a nice play on words, I had to give them that. If there was one thing I'd always been eager to appreciate then it was a good use of linguistic skill.

"Damn..." I could hear Lurk utter as her eye searched the article, quickly shooting up to glance between me and the Empress.

"They'll write anything if it gets them coin," Corvo grumbled, clearly displeased with the newest rumour that now circulated all of the isles. "They have nothing to back this up."

"Yes but you know how gullible the people are father," the Empress complained, the Crown Killer debacle still fresh on everyone's mind.

"'Lady Emily takes after her late mother as rumours of yet another exotic love affair within the walls of Dunwall Tower emerge, signalling an end to the Morley romance that previously brought union to the squabbling Isles'," Billie snorted, clearly amused with the article. "Is _that_ why you took that cold shower huh, kid?"

I choked on my food, my shoulders shooting up in a knee-jerk reaction to the shock I felt at the unexpected words. I swallowed carefully, eyes darting between the curious gazes that had now been pointed directly at me. I could feel the blood rising to my face, my cheeks burning — much to my chagrin. I turned to glare at Lurk, her nonchalant smirk the final nail in her proverbial coffin. I was about to protest the accusations when the Empress cut in, drawing the attention back to her.

"Let's try and focus on more important matters." She sternly eyed the three of us, squinting at her father who's questioning gaze was still locked onto me. "Father?" The Empress lowered her head in an attempt to draw in the Royal Protector's attention, unsuccessfully so.

"Give him a break, old man." Billie glared at Corvo, finally convincing him to look away. He huffed, turning to his neglected breakfast instead as his eyes continued to briefly dart towards my face every now and again.

"So what's our plan?" The Empress continued. Everyone remained silent, the soft sounds of silverware scratching against porcelain momentarily halted. The Empress rubbed her temple, glaring at the messy stack of papers that sat on the table. "Assuming the knife has drained your magic and thus your life essence, what would our best course of action be?" She turned back to me, eyes boring into mine. A hint of pink dusted her cheeks and… Was she actually flustered?

"There's only two options..." I started, a slight crack to my voice. "Either we learn more about the origins that enabled the knife and cultists to create me, or I die."

"That doesn't sound like two options, since the first isn't even a guarantee that you'll live." She sounded annoyed.

I shrugged, a very noncommittal act for someone in my predicament, I realised.

"Sokolov's working on an elixir, that might help." She offered.

I shook my head, gaze still locked onto hers. "It's stalling the inevitable."

"It's life," the Empress countered, narrowing her eyes. "At least for now."

She turned to Billie. "The Eyeless, they would know more, would they not?"

A grim look passed Billie's features as she thought of the cult she'd recently infiltrated, the tattoo still visible on her skin. "There's a library at their headquarters. Contained all sorts of knowledge. Could be our best shot."

The Empress nodded, her eyebrows pinched together in a look of concentration. "We'll have to go there," she glanced at the paperwork, "but I can't leave the Empire in its current state, and to be frank, I won't have the Outsider stumbling around the headquarters of a dangerous cult set on murdering him." She shot me an appraising look.

"What are you saying Emily?" Corvo's low voice questioned.

"I'm saying that I'll need my Royal Spymaster to look into this." She directed a look at Billie. "You'll go with him, your knowledge is valuable — as well as your magical abilities."

"I'm not leaving you here!" Corvo snapped, sending me an angry look. "And especially not after these newest rumours."

"Father, I'll take care of it." The Empress caught Corvo's gaze, both eying each other in silence before the latter looked away. "Give me four days to prepare, I'm booked right now, so I won't be able to work any faster," she spoke as she pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes shut for a moment.

"What will you supposedly be doing in the meantime?" The Royal Protector asked the Empress.

She sent him an exasperated look. " _I_ will be taking care of the scheduled meetings regarding the Whale Oil problem as we try to prevent the Empire from falling into complete disarray."

Billie seemed amused.

"And _you_?" Corvo now turned to me, eyebrows raised in question. I sat back in my chair at the sudden inquiry, gaze darting between the three faces that surrounded me.

"He'll continue to be Sokolov's patient, if there's anyone who can understand the workings of his body then it's Anton. Plus he'll be around to help me solve the current crisis, whilst I'll be teaching him proper manners and etiquette — as we agreed." The Empress sent her father a daring look.

"That was before the news of your illicit affair arose," Corvo spat, his shoulders squared. "And what of the Eyeless? What if they come for him?" I was the only one in the room who knew for certain the Eyeless would be the least of our worries for now.

"We'll be _fine,_ Father." She said crossly. "No one knows his true identity and no one expects the Outsider to live within Dunwall Tower of all places. As far as we know the Eyeless think him dead. Besides, I've always been perfectly fine without magic and I'll be perfectly fine now." I knew this ran deeper than the Empress was letting on. There was a bitter undertone to her belligerent voice. This wouldn't be the first time they spoke of this, and it wasn't because I'd been all-seeing that I knew it. I could sense it in all their indiscreet movements, the slight raise of their shoulders, lowered eyebrows, arched backs and tight lips drawn into straight lines. The more time I spent walking amongst people, the more clearly I started to see them. I likened them to a body of water; how you need to be submerged to clearly see the full extent of what lies beneath.

"I have another meeting to attend in a few, so we'll have to wrap this up quick." She forced the conversation forward, moving some papers around without looking at her father again. I watched her slender fingers wrap around the documents with care, noted her carefully looked after fingernails; polished to perfection. Her fingertips padded across the material, moving with attentive precision and practiced dexterity. I marvelled at the subtle movements, the fast pace with which they were performed. Her hands possessed a grace I never valued before.

"Oy." I could hear Billie call out to me, her elbow nudging my side. I was quick to look away, meeting the former assassin's eyes with an annoyed glare of my own. "The Empress just asked you a question."

"What?" My gaze darted between the Empress and Lurk, surprised that I'd missed anything.

"I'll be expecting you at the library at four. Do you think you'll make it?" She raised an arched brow, both eyes dancing between mine. Four in the afternoon. What time was it now? I realised I didn't exactly know how to read clocks. I'd never bothered to. Could I get away with a gamble? Most likely not. Four was very specific. Then again Corvo's 'eleven' had also been specific but I'd still shown up far earlier, which had worked out regardless. But what if I'd be late?

Another jab to my side by Lurk, which earned her another angry scowl from me. "Yes," I complied. I'd figure it out. There was still time, at least I thought. I knew she'd have a meeting soon, which meant it couldn't be near four yet. Meetings usually lasted long, long enough for the sun to tastefully highlight different parts of the Empress's face, I knew.

"Alright — Father, you know what to do. Billie?" She checked with the woman next to me.

"Yes, your Majesty." She confirmed. For a moment I wondered what she'd be doing. Corvo would take care of her stay here, he'd probably forge some more papers, appoint her a job within the Tower. She'd get her own room, I hoped.

"Then we're done here," the Empress concluded, writing down a few things and carefully stacking the loose papers. I looked at my empty plate. What now? I could hear the chairs scrape across the wooden floor as both Corvo and Billie stood, off to transform her back into Meagan Foster, the captain. I could feel the way Corvo's watchful gaze scrutinised my form, increasingly wary of me following the news article. He'd probably suspect someone might have actually witnessed something meaningful, which I knew to be untrue. I knew exactly who'd been responsible for the article, and why. "Are you alright?" The Empress's soft tone surprised me.

I glanced her way, her facial features betraying nothing of her thoughts — unlike her worried eyes. "Yes," I replied hastily as I stood from my chair, uncomfortable with her obvious concern. My gaze burned into the floor as I turned to leave, following Corvo and Billie out of the room. The two sent me a surprised look when I passed them without saying anything to the pair, headed quickly towards my own destination. I'd learned to recognise certain checkpoints within the Tower, paintings and statues that were unique to a particular area. I'd found that it made navigation much more bearable. It took me a long time to find what I was looking for, but when my eyes struck a familiar fireplace I knew I was headed in the right direction. Following the distant echoes that traveled through rusted piping, I made my way to the one person I knew I could ask for help on this matter without feeling like a blustering idiot. When I entered his room he was quick to notice me, blatant surprise shaping his features.

"I can't read clocks," I blurted at the man.

"Well hello to you too," the sardonic voice of Anton Sokolov trembled through the damp air of the poorly lit basement, the steam powered machinery still huffing and puffing in the background. I paced in front of the man as he watched me from his worktable, his aged fingers wrapped around glass tubes containing mysterious liquids. I contemplated how to go about my request, deciding I'd be better off getting straight to the point.

"Can you teach me?" I paused to look at the man, the flickering lights doing his sunken features no favours.

He sent me a strange look before glancing at the vials in his hands, searching for a proper place to stack them. "I suppose." His wilted voice was soft as he contemplated the odd request. After dragging a nearby rack out on the table using his bony elbow, he used his now emptied hands to motion for me to join him. I hesitated, eyeing the worn-looking man before me as I slowly approached, carefully sitting down on a round stool that stood next to him. He took out a golden pocket watch, decorated with lavishly detailed designs. His wrinkled fingers plucked at the lid, opening it with a soft clink. The familiar numbers sprang into view and I watched them curiously. One of the hands ticked by steadily, revealing each invisible second to the human eye.

"You know the days are divided into 24 hours total?" He asked, glancing at me before directing his gaze back to the object in his hand. I nodded to which he gave a small nod of his own in response. "Clocks are divided by 12 hours, meaning the hands cross the same numbers twice each day." He coughed into his hand once, a deep sound rumbling within his chest. "The shorter hand counts the hours whereas the longer counts the minutes, and the thinnest counts the seconds. There are a total of 60 minutes in one hour and another 60 seconds in every minute." His fingernail slid across the display, tracing the small lines that marked the spaces between the numbers. "When the larger hand points at the 12, then that means it's the hour that the smallest hand points at. Say the smaller is directed at the three here, that means it's three o'clock." He pointed at the three. "15 minutes make up a quarter of the total time, meaning that when the largest hand is at three instead of 12, then it's a 'quarter past' whatever hour the smallest hand marks."

was having a harder time keeping up with his fast explanation than I'd expected, finding that the different hands and numbers tended to confuse me. "When it's halfway around the clock, so pointed at the six, then it's half past whatever hour the smaller hand marks," he continued. My eyes flitted between the concentrated features of the Physician and the glassy surface of the pocket watch. "And lastly, when the larger hand covers the nine then it's a quarter to whatever hour comes after the hour the smaller hand marks." His eyes traveled up to meet mine expectantly. "Do you think you know what time it is now?"

I was taken aback a bit, the sudden pressure causing me to clam up ever so slightly. I noticed I was gaping, quickly closing my mouth, I directed my gaze towards the glossy display. I watched the thinnest hand tick off the seconds, it's steadfast journey making me feel somewhat anxious. The smaller hand was pointed at the one whereas the larger was about to cross the nine. "It's a quarter to one?" I guessed, eyes boring into the old Physician's again.

Sokolov shook his head, thin lips pressed against each other. "It's always a quarter to the number that comes _after_ the number marked by the smaller hand."

"So a quarter to two?"

Sokolov now nodded in confirmation and I felt a flicker of relief at getting it right. With a new understanding of the visual system of time came a different sense of it too, after long decades of being unable to pinpoint the exact hour — the modern and widely available knowledge of telling time felt refreshing. I'd always noted the coming and passing of seasons, the occurrence of certain celestial events. I'd known to differentiate the bright mornings from the setting evenings and the warm afternoons from the cold nights. But now I lived by observable seconds again instead of the observed rising and falling of the sun.

"Back when you lived," The Physician started. "How did the people measure time?" The question surprised me, the Physician's interest catching me off guard. Of course I knew barely any public records or evidence remained of my people, almost all knowledge washed away by the passing centuries. I was aware of a handful of books that still held fractions of information, but those were hard to find or to trust as truth and not fiction. I carefully observed the elder next to me, his gaze never fully meeting mine, and I decided I could indulge his question, if only out of gratefulness for the knowledge he'd just now passed to me.

"We used the outflow of water," I explained, finding it hard to focus my gaze on anything in particular. "A container marked with lines would be filled with water to indicate the hours as the outflow caused the water level to drop as time passed."

Sokolov nodded before changing the subject, a hint of curiosity mixing in with his scratching voice, "I read some interesting news in the paper today."

As I briefly met his gaze I noted the strange expression that had captured his features. His eyes watched my face peculiarly, his lips still pressed in that same thin line and his brows lowered. "Have you now?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes at the man, before turning to look away again. I grabbed the surface of the workbench for balance as I lifted myself from my seat, not minding the old man's persistent staring. I regarded him briefly, schooling my features. "I thank you for your help, Anton Sokolov." And with that, I left the haggard man where he sat, another sickly cough bouncing off the humid walls of the dark basement. He didn't say anything in return, instead he watched me go with that same peculiar expression.

* * *

"You're right on time." The Empress managed to sound surprised as she eyed my figure in the doorway.

"You took me for the tardily sort, then?" She was seated in the same chair I'd been in after I'd bit my tongue, the surrounding carpet perfectly rinsed of my blood — which must have taken the personnel hours. The strange tension that had hung between us this morning had lifted, a sense of ease filling me at the familiar sight of her — her curious and daring gaze compelling me to be more forward with her.

"Perhaps. I certainly didn't expect you to be punctual, anyway." Her eyes darted between me and her lap, where her neatly folded hands rested on top of a worn looking book. It was a cold day, the sun hung low in the sky and the cool atmosphere of the room bit at my exposed pieces of skin. The sky beyond the windows consisted of an artistic mixture of teal and pink hues that all blended together perfectly. A crackling fire burned in the large fireplace at the left side of the spacious room, the flames dancing and licking at the stones. The light of it caressed the Empress, coloured her hair and brightened her skin. I was leaning against the doorpost, the wooden support a relief to my unreliable legs.

"What are you reading?" I felt suspicious of her hands and how effectively they covered the title of the mysterious book. I noticed the way her back straightened out, as if an invisible string pulled her head and shoulders slightly upwards.

"Nothing really," she replied, her voice revealing not a glimpse of her feelings.

I pushed away from the doorframe, and slowly made my way towards her, my newly tall frame slinking across the carpeted wood. I allowed my eyes to travel from her tense face to her clenched fingers, mine wrapping around them with ease as I pulled them away from the cover — my skin relishing the buzz that traveled between our intertwined limbs. "Ancient people of Serkonos?" I asked curiously, searching her gaze.

The Empress shrugged sheepishly. "I thought maybe I could learn more about your past." The hints of an apologising smile partially lifted the corners of her pink lips.

I shook my head bemusedly, much to her apparent annoyance. "I'm not from Serkonos."

"You're not? But, that's where-" she cut herself off. "I thought..."

"The entrance to the Void is there, but it isn't where I was born."

Her eyes widened, her features a subtle display of intrigue. "Then where?"

I lowered my face towards hers, levelling our gazes. "Empress Emily Kaldwin, are you studying the heritage of the Outsider? I must say, each day you drift deeper into heresy."

"It's for the good of the Empire," she was quick to defend herself, lips pulled into a genuine pout. "And you can let go of my hand now."

My eyes shot to the disobedient limb, noticing how it held onto the Empress's without me even being aware. Our fingers were intertwined, the cold steel of my rings rubbing against her skin. "It's for the good of the Empire," I combatted, slowly pulling my hand from hers and straightening my back again.

"Right, and what good might that be?" Her voice sceptical.

"Restrict the Restless Hands, which quickly become the workmates of the Outsider," I taunted, surprised by the baritones of my own voice — the guise of authority deepening the notes into a low purr.

The Empress snorted, her eyes alight with something unfamiliar. "You're talkative today," she noted, leaving her chair as she moved to put the book back in its place. I watched her thumb across several titles, picking and taking out a few unfortunate victims.

"You know, I never was able to draw in the Void." I remarked, watching her hesitate.

She sent me a quick look over her shoulder. "You're saying you want to?"

I hesitated, my eyes searching the her features. "I might."

If my interest had surprised her, she didn't show it. "I'll consider it, but there's other things to be practiced first." She walked up to me, a carefully compiled stack of books resting in her hands.

"Posture again?" I asked unenthusiastically.

"You got it," she replied as she placed the books on top of the chair she'd been sitting in. I groaned as the Empress's hands moved to correct my stance, gesturing for me to mirror her movements as she spread her feet to balance her center. I begrudgingly copied the pose, which caused me to look down on the Empress even further as my height increased with the bettered carriage of myself. "You want to chance getting stabbed by the Eyeless again?" She rested her hands on her hips, signalling that she was being absolutely serious.

"They did a poor job of it the first time around so I might be willing to take the risk." I watched the way her hip jutted out whenever she took on a defiant pose.

She shook her head as she turned away to pick up the books, lifting one of them to rest on the top of my head again. "Well I'm not, so tough luck. Besides, your bad posture is a disgrace to the nobility of the Isles." She used one of her hands to correct my sloping shoulders and slight hunch again as the other carefully kept the books in place. My eyes tracked her movements, the fabric of her blouse contorting and stretching with each different gesture.

"You rule with an iron fist, Empress — and maybe that's part of my profiling strategy."

She snorted, "what is that strategy even supposed to accomplish? The upper class shunning you at parties?" She humoured me.

"The goal is to not get an invite in the first place," I crossed my arms as I corrected her, the book tumbling down immediately — to which the Empress cocked an eyebrow.

"Then you're not doing a great job. I've already had letters regarding my newest 'romantic partner', we've been invited to three galas so far." She rolled her eyes at the mention of 'romantic partner'. I knew she hated the way the public tended to meddle with her lovelife, Wyman had been spared no scrutiny and I was certain that had played a major role in recent events. The Empress replaced the book I'd dropped by another, my eyes glued to the flow of her body.

"Ah yes, how predictable. The world is sick, dying even, and all the populace worry their simple little minds about are trivial matters such as who beds the Empress and who gets the honour of debuting the latest fodder to feed the gossip mill." I made the mistake of crossing my arms again, causing another book to tumble down.

The Empress's eyes darted away from me, her hands now playing with the white shawl that tied around her neck, the silken material gliding between her fingers. The posture practice had been quickly forgotten. "Unfortunately, yes. Which is why my father wants me to address the rumours as fast as possible." She bit her lip. "He wants me to make a public outing with Wyman, to steer the eyes of the public away from you." Her eyes quickly shot up to meet mine before returning to the floor again.

I raised my eyebrows at her tangible dislike of the idea. "But you don't want to?" I dared ask, eliciting a weary sigh from the woman.

"I do." She blurted, catching herself momentarily. "Just not with Wyman. Not now. Not..." The air started to become heavier, the tension that had been there this morning seeping in once more. She bit her lip again, one of her hands rubbed the side of her slender neck, revealing the smooth skin that lay hidden behind the fabric of her collar. "I'm just afraid..." she didn't finish, but I recognised that look on her face. It was the same tortured frown I'd seen there the day I'd outed Wyman's indiscretions.

"You love them still."

Something small had broken within the Empress, something that would take a long time to repair. I could see the subtle ways in which her posture collapsed, unraveling at the seams. Yet somehow she still managed to hold herself together with a grace and determination I knew ran through her blood. "I'm really tired, I'm sorry. We'll continue tomorrow." I tilted my head at her, observing the current that thrashed through her almond gaze. I nodded, and left the Empress to herself. I took note of the way her eyes trailed me as I closed the doors behind me, her one hand still playing with the shawl as her teeth continued to dig into her lower lip.

When I arrived at my room later that day, I was surprised to find the Empress had sent for paper and pencils to be brought to my quarters. I sat down at the small wooden table that stood by the windows, the reddening skies colouring the glass, and I started drawing — surprised by how easily the pictures flowed from my fingertips again, as if it hadn't been over 4000 years ago. I drew memories, fragments. Cities long forgotten and people long gone. In the distance the lullabies of the whales accompanied me in my lonely shelter. I drew faces, flowers, and water-clocks. Sketched withered bricks and slippery pavement. Streets I'd walked and people I'd known.

As I looked down upon the small images, the tiny glimpses of a life long gone, I felt more ancient than ever.

* * *

The next day rolled by before I knew it. I'd been more than happy to hear that Lurk had gotten her own quarters, relishing in the comfort of my solitude that night. We no longer needed to hide in someone's room for breakfast now that she had been introduced as an official guest, her eye and arm both cleverly hidden. We'd eaten breakfast in the familiar dining room, the large table separating us far enough to prevent Lurk's elbows from digging into my sides again. The Empress had requested me to come to the library at two, but I'd been surprised when she'd thrown me a thicker jacket. I'd questioningly put it on but she didn't say anything, instead she led me down an abandoned flight of stairs and out into a hidden piece of the courtyard. The harsh sunlight hit me in the eyes and almost blinded me, the shelter of the Tower leaving me unaccustomed to the brightness of the outside world.

"Come on!" I could hear the high notes of the Empress's voice as she walked ahead of me, her figure breaking the luminous rays that showered the area with their vivid shine.

"Do you think this is a good idea?" I asked, reminding the Empress of the current rumours that circulated the Isles. I used my right hand to shield my eyes as the wind tore at my hair and clothes, the distant crashes of waves hitting the shore echoeing between the surrounding structures.

"Don't worry, no one will see us here." She waved off my concern. "Besides I'm attending a gala with Wyman tonight." I was perplexed by the eagerness she now showed towards the idea, a complete turnaround from the day before. She surprised me when she leapt down onto the lower cliffs beyond the barricade of walls surrounding the Tower, their slow descent allowing for an easy climb. So where _do_ you come from?" She asked, the wind tousling her neat hair as she gestured for me to join her.

"You don't give up, do you?" I frowned as I took the hand she offered, helping me climb down onto the jagged rocks.

"Nope," she quipped, "indulge me."

I lowered myself onto the surprisingly warm surface, the stones nicely heated by the rays of the sun. "You wouldn't recognise or understand the name." I crouched next to her, using my hands to keep balance.

"I meant what present Isle," she laughed, coming to a stand as she headed in a seemingly random direction.

"You could have asked these questions inside, too," I offered as I obediently followed the woman, my eyes squinting in order to keep track of her quickly progressing form. The salty winds filled my nostrils and left the sea on my tongue, the overload of fresh air leaving me dazed.

"Yes but you shouldn't be cooped up inside all day, you need sunlight." She briefly glanced back at me to speak before continuing forward again.

"Because I'm pale?" I questioned, tripping on a ridiculous piece of rock.

Her hands were quick to catch me, pulling me upright again with no effort. "No. Because it's healthy."

"Because I'm old?" I raised my eyebrows at her, able to see her clearly now that her form blocked the sun.

"You're not old," she snorted, turning away and causing the luminous rays to burn into my face again. "Honestly, you're impossible," she shook her head. We soon arrived at the edge of the cliff, where the Empress jumped down onto a hidden plateau that could only be seen from above. I followed suit, her hands once more catching me as I stumbled with my landing. I noticed the table and chairs that stood facing the sea, used plates and old food containers scattered around the small space. The Empress moved around with a liberty that suggested she'd spent a lot of time here, dropping down in one of the chairs as she pulled a few items from her deep pockets. I hesitantly joined her, sitting down in the chair next to hers. The surrounding rock walls protected us from the howling winds, a peaceful break I appreciated.

"Do you recognise this place?" She asked, her eyes shooting up to meet mine expectantly.

I sat back as I cautiously searched her face. "No."

She looked a bit perturbed at my response. "I thought you could see everything?"

I opened and closed my mouth several times, caught off guard as my eyes darted across the space. She frowned, crossing her arms as her eyes traveled towards the crashing waves that stretched out below us.

"I used to come here a lot," she started, glancing at the weathered table. "Wyman and I did." I watched the smile that tugged at her lips, the hopeful set of her eyes as she recalled times long gone. "We'd enjoy the view. I often painted, and they'd write." She tilted her head as her eyes met mine. "It always helped us relax, made us more capable of dealing with the daily stresses of life in the eyes of the public."

My fingers wrapped around the cool steel of my rings, twisting and turning them as I listened to the Empress explain. She moved to unfold the objects she'd brought, revealing several pieces of paper and sticks of charcoal.

"Did you draw when you were alive?" She asked, gaze burning into mine with an amount of curiosity that bordered on desperation. My eyes traveled from her expectant face to the tools she'd brought, fully aware of the weight of her question. For once I felt myself unable to hold back — small, insignificant details of my previous life spilling into the ears of the Empress I'd observed for years.

"I drew flowers," I confessed, unable to look away from the Empress after allowing the words to slip. I held my breath as I waited for her reaction, the admission more personal than I'd care to explain. She observed me with unspoken wonder, the curves of her mouth forming into a subtle 'o'.

"Why?" She asked then, her earnest gaze compelling me to keep on talking — to trust her.

"To preserve them." I glanced at the ocean again, the dark waters sloshing in the same repeating patterns as always. I knew she wouldn't be satisfied with my answer, the delicate frown that pulled together her arched brows was telling enough, but it was all I was capable of giving — right now. Here within the calmness of the hidden plateau and away from the prying eyes of other individuals, I'd already offered her one of my innermost secrets. She seemed to pick up on my slight discomfort, choosing not to pry any further even though I knew she wanted to. Instead she offered to draw the landscape together, handing me one of the pieces of charcoal and a sheet of paper.

As we both worked on our own translation of the view, she lectured me on ways to properly greet and speak to nobility. She informed me on the subtle rules of conversation and how to be polite at all times. I listened carefully to everything she had to say, my eyes occasionally captured by the delicate motions of her mouth. She retrieved a small bundle of canned goods after a while, offering me something to eat. We continued working as we both happily munched on the preserved provisions, the intensity of the taste surprising me after my many meals of Sokolov's strange and tasteless goo. Time passed by pleasantly, and I found that the Empress's teaching voice was a rather welcome replacement for the usual score of deep sea ballads.

When the sun had lowered enough to begin melting into the sea, the Empress announced that it was time for us to return to the tower. The orange glow of the setting sun warmed her features and set her eyes alight, their sharp shape accentuated by the shadows cast. She stood as she carefully rolled up her drawing, storing the petite scroll into one of her pockets. Her eyes glanced at me before crossing my own creation, a sharp intake of breath causing her chest to swell against the smooth fabric of her blouse. I watched her face as she stared down at the picture I'd constructed, her pink lips parting in shock and her eyes widening. When she met my gaze again I was rendered speechless by the excitement that illuminated her sculpted features, her mouth pulled into a grateful grin, her almond eyes lit with a thousand flickering ambers — framed by a lush display of dark lashes.

Her olive complexion mixed with subtle rosy pinks that matched the curve of her soft lips. The sinking sun hit her face in a way I hadn't seen before, and at that moment I found there was only one word my mind was capable of conjuring that came close enough to properly conveying the essence of the visual scenery before me.

Beautiful.

* * *

Time ticked by. One hour. Two hours. Three hours. I sat on the cold floor, my back pressed against the high wall at one of the corners of the room. The corner safe from the light, the corner shrouded in darkness. I liked the dark, liked the shadows that engulfed my skin. I liked the feel of my fingers digging into my scalp as they pulled at my unmanageable hair. I didn't like the fact that I hadn't noticed her entering my room, her form hovering at the table, my table. I also didn't like the look she sent me as she discovered me in the corner. But whether I liked it or not, she moved over to me, dropping to her knees in front of my feet.

"Hey kid." She spoke, her eye searching mine.

I didn't meet her gaze, instead I continued staring at the clock. Another second, another heartbeat. Her hand came up to touch my shoulder, but I grabbed it before it reached me — my pale fingers wrapping around the bandage that hid the black shatters of her void limb, the buzz of magic cooing at my skin. I met her eye then, a scowl drawing my tired features together. She answered me with a scowl of her own, her lips pulled into an unhappy grimace.

"It's time for dinner." She pulled her arm out of my grasp, the magic scraping against my fingers, and stood. She dusted off her knees before turning away, headed back towards the door. As she passed the table, I could see her head turn to the scattered papers that lied on top of it. She didn't stop to comment. At the sound of the distant door closing again I allowed myself to slump down, my legs sliding across the cold wooden surface of the floor. I felt my insides coil up within me, a surge of nauseating tension traveling through my worn muscles, my stressed tendons and my ailing heart. I felt sick.

I gingerly lifted my body from where it rested on the floor — limbs trembling ever so slightly after the tiresome afternoon. I used the firm and reliable wall for support as I glanced back at the cliffs — the vacant rocks that divided us from the swirling waters beyond — and a distant and sickening pang shot through me.

Fear.

With a sigh I headed towards the door, my fingers grasping the cold knob. I opened it with a swift turn and found myself face to face with Lurk again as she nonchalantly leaned against the steady wall behind her.

"Took you long enough, come on," she spoke, pushing herself off the wall and turning to walk down the hallway without looking back. I followed without a word, surprised she'd been waiting around for me. The heels of her boots thumbed against the floor, the carpet muting the rhythmic sounds. "Want to talk about what's wrong?" She asked, tentatively, her voice void of its usual mockery.

I stared at nothing in particular, my eyes gazing down the hallway without focus or purpose. I could see Lurk glancing at me, her sharp features moving in my peripheral. "No," I objected, my gaze shooting towards her face for a moment — catching the lift of her brow. I turned to glare at the carpet, crossing my arms in front of me.

She stayed silent for a short, blissful moment. "Didn't know you drew."

I turned a corner, knowing the way by now. Lurk had to increase her pace to keep up with me, the rhythm of her steps quickening.

"I didn't know you were a fan of small talk, how ignorant we can sometimes be," I spoke with derision.

She didn't appear to be fazed by my sneering. "You're taller. It's off-putting." I resisted rolling my eyes, turning to inspect the passing wallpaper instead. "Didn't know Emily was into the 'tall, dark and handsome' thing, you know?" She jibed.

Was she calling me handsome? I paused my walking for a moment, sending the woman behind me an exasperated glare. "Can you stop?"

That earned me a smirk from the former assassin. "I'm just trying to see if there's any truth to these rumours."

I quickened my pace, trying to rid myself of the nuisance that was Billie Lurk — but she had no trouble keeping up with me. Her trained legs could outrun mine with ease, and I was painfully aware of that fact. I hurriedly turned another corner and felt relieved at the sight of our destination. I sent the woman another quick glare before opening the double doors that led to the dining area. I was surprised by the sight of Sokolov, his curved spine slumped against the back of one of the expensive chairs. I ignored the woman behind me as I went to sit next to the old man — and his laboured breathing didn't escape my attention. Lurk sat down across from me and next to Corvo, who flanked the empty chair of the Empress. My eyes masterfully avoided the vacant spot.

"Thank you, Billie," Corvo grunted, his hands steepled in front of his mouth.

The former assassin kept her gaze locked on me as she nodded at the Royal Protector. "It was no problem." I sent her a glare, still annoyed by her previous questioning.

"Well then, without further ado, let's eat." He lifted the lid off several exquisite looking dishes, tropical colours and exotic smells laid bare before us. The meals looked mouth-watering, but I knew I wouldn't be so lucky as he lifted a final lid to reveal the usual sludge I was fed at all times of the day. I watched him dump the goo onto my plate with a sour expression, the warm air wafting off my dish doing my appetite no favours. The others moved to fill their plates with the riches presented, the steaming food filling my nose with its delicious scents. "How'd the lessons go?" Corvo suddenly asked as his dark gaze burned into me.

I choked on the bite I'd been trying to swallow, coughing into a fist as my eyes danced between him and Lurk. "The Empress informed me on the importance and details of social and conversational rules in etiquette," I spoke calmly, my throat closing up on me as I attempted to swallow the bits of food that remained.

"Good," the Royal Protector grunted. "Then you know all you need to know. You'll start training with me as of tomorrow." His eyes narrowed at me and I wasn't sure yet if I should be happy with the unexpected news or not. "There are more important matters to deal with than proper posture and manners." I detected the sour edge to his voice, noticing the whitening of his knuckles as he held onto the cutlery a fraction too tight.

It was Sokolov's turn to speak as he commented on the Royal Protector's words. "Yes, Corvo, I agree — although I do think it also very important for the Outsider to be believable in his role… Especially with the recently added scrutiny." His fingers worked their way through his beard. Corvo moved to wave off the elder's sentiment, until Sokolov continued. "Then there's also the matter of magic," he added, fully capturing Corvo's attention with the final word. "Lady Emily informed me of the boy's equivocal ability to perceive visions of future events." I chanced a glance at the empty chair at the head of the table, wondering if she'd be dining and dancing with the Morley noble right now as I swallowed another bite of the tasteless food.

"Visions? What do you mean visions? For how long?" The Royal Protector's temper flared as he quickly turned to me, disbelief contorting his features at the mention of the withheld piece of information.

My eyes briefly flitted up to meet his, taking quick note of his tense shoulders and raised eyebrows. "What he means is that I happened to catch a few glimpses of possible events. But don't fret, I saw nothing of direct or dire concern to you, Corvo," I sneered at the Royal Protector, annoyed by his brusqueness.

"What _did_ you see?" He persisted, lowering his head in an attempt to force me to meet his eyes. I continued eating, unsettled by the number of gazes that now focused on me alone. "This isn't a game. This is life and death. What did you see?" Corvo's tone was loaded with warning, his hands spread across the table before him as if to bear the weight of the situation.

I silently eyed the man, contemplating whether telling him would be the best idea. Probably not. It was too risky. "I saw Billie Lurk's dead eye gaze upon stories only to be told by the deceased, an artefact in shatters."

Corvo's raised shoulders didn't relax as his eyes narrowed at the ambiguity of the words. "What's that even supposed to mean?" He asked in an attempt to get me to spill my guts even further, unsatisfied by the desultory statement.

I sent the man an annoyed glare before continuing, feeling an uncomfortable heat creep up my back as it started to burn the tender skin of my neck. "Like I said, I saw Billie Lurk's dead eye gaze upon stories only to be told by the deceased, an artefact in shatters." I bit out. "I also saw Anton Sokolov, minus two fingers, as he lit the ocean on fire." I picked up on the sharp intake of breath that Sokolov took, his decrepit heart pushing its limits as it sped up at the revelation. My gaze slowly drifted towards the empty chair at the head of the table, a strange feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. "And I saw Empress Emily Kaldwin as she danced in a crowd, her silken hair in disarray, her clothes worn into threads and her hands wet with _my_ blood."


	6. Break

That night, I realised I dreamed for the first time. I'd recognised the cliffs surrounding the Tower as I silently dropped off of them, my weight reduced to air and my body eternally falling in a sea of warm amber. My vision flashed with a million pathways, yet for all their differences every one of them seemed to lead to the same place, her. I found her, as I always found her, and silently ghosted across her olive skin, my fingertips flowing in a gentle caress — drawing her in with fluid movements and artistic precision. Her golden eyes gazed upon me with that same wondrous delight they'd possessed after seeing my drawing, and I found I was utterly enthralled by such a vibrant and exciting expression which I had never before been the intended recipient of. She pulled me towards her as her delicate fingers streamed down my shoulders and back in a feathery embrace. Her eyes fluttered and her lips formed my name. _My_ name.

I awakened in a state of perplexed shock as I realised just what I'd been dreaming of, my skin richly covered in sweat and still burning from the lingering memory. My body twitched and ached, and I quickly became aware of my dire need for another cooling shower to help wash away the sins of sleep. I cursed myself as the cold water beat against me, trickling down my back in a sensation far too eerily reminiscent of my dream. I dropped my head against the cool surface of the tiles, my arms listlessly wrapping around my skull as I tried to gather my wits. The thought of likening the Empress to something that could be described as beautiful had been frightening — terrifying even.

But dreaming about her? My heart was racing and my stomach was filled with an overbearing sense of sick, my guts tangled and twisted whichever way. I closed my eyes and groaned as I abhorred my own utter stupidity. To think that I could even entertain such thoughts filled me with more dread than the eternal emptiness of the Void itself.

* * *

"I heard you have a real talent for the art of illustration."

I glared at my plate as I tried to ignore every single life-form that occupied the room, to say I felt embarrassed would be nothing but pitiful.

"He does. You should see his work." Lurk's voice broke through the air, the ambiance of fine cutlery clinking against porcelain plates a constant reminder of my current company. "It's beautiful."

I hated that word right now.

"You draw, Mel?" Corvo's inquiring tone was surprisingly less hostile compared to the day before, yet I felt the vague hint of an insult hidden beneath — a mocking edge to his voice. I could wonder what gave, except I knew exactly what had given.

"Wyman, I don't think he wants to talk about it." The Empress meddled. Like she always did. Like people had always accused me of doing. I could see Wyman as they picked at their food without having to look, their vague shape hard not to notice. Their golden hair glittered with a blinding shine and I was sure their disheveled blouse was the whitest I'd ever had the displeasure of viewing. I hadn't looked at the Empress, but I'd noticed her slightly disheveled appearance from the corner of my eye — a stark contrast to her usual imperial perfection.

"Well you should see Em's work, she's quite talented."

I stirred the tasteless goo in front of me, the shiny substance curling after my fork. "I've already seen all of her work." I lifted a mouthful of the unsavoury meal, swallowing almost immediately after. I pushed a shuddery breath past my lips at the taste of the medicinal food before tilting my head as I continued to watch the mud-like sludge with feigned interest, my lips moving to speak in slow sentences. "Did you know the ancient people of Samara would adorn the eyes of the dead with flowers? The petals would eventually fall, symbolising all past agony and tears to have been cleansed from their souls before passing on to the next realm." My eyes had lifted to gaze off into nothing, Wyman's moving form a mere blur in the corner, and took another bite. A stifling silence hung in the room, the clatter of cutlery momentarily halted. I knew Sokolov was watching me with meaningful interest. I also knew the old man could go suck his beard for all I cared.

"I didn't... wherever did you read that?" Wyman's dulcet tones wavered with question. But I didn't speak again, noting how the Morley Noble had been waiting with baited breath for me to continue until it became apparent I wouldn't, and they awkwardly cleared their throat instead.

"You have a meeting with Lord Heaton this afternoon. Think you'll manage everything?" I heard Corvo grumble to the Empress from the other side of the table, the soft sounds of silverware thumping against porcelain returning once more.

"I've seen some strange things." Lurk whispered in my ear, drawing my eyes towards her in a questioning gaze. She pointed at the bandaged half of her face, the Sliver of the Eye hidden beneath.

"Again? He's been bothering me for days now. I'm not going to fund his festival, we're running out of finances as is, we can't waste the Royal Reserves on such trivialities," the Empress complained.

"Whales," Lurk hissed. I knew I was the only one capable of hearing Lurk's hushed tones, but I glanced around the table nonetheless.

"Can you move his appointment to tomorrow? I'm too wrapped up in arranging other things first." The Empress's voice was loaded with hidden meaning and I knew she was talking about her father's departure.

"I know," I whispered, sending Lurk a look that emphasised the finality of my statement, not elaborating any further. I'd heard them for days now, their continuous songs ever-growing in their volume. I had no idea what they wanted, yet they continued their begging melody, calling for me endlessly.

"Month of Darkness is fast approaching Em, I think it'd be good for the people to, you know, have some fun before it arrives. It would certainly help boost morale," Wyman argued.

I noticed the thickening of the air around us right after the sentence had been spoken. "By 'the people' you must mean 'the Nobility', right?" The Empress's voice was sharp as it cut through the tension.

"Is something going to happen to you?" Lurk sounded concerned, and as I glanced up at her features I noticed the worried pull of her brow.

"We can't afford it. Not now," the Empress continued to reject the notion. I hadn't pondered the economics of Dunwall — or the Isles for that matter. I'd never taken much interest in the arduous never-ending political squabbles over coin and valuables. I'd always been more attracted to seeing what people would do for said coin. Coin and love weren't so different, and I found — in essence — almost the same. Billie's gaze stung me with its intensity, but I wasn't about to give in.

"You know I don't mean it like that..." Wyman hesitated. "The nobility are an important fraction of your rule, in return their collective finances could support the Empire right now."

"I won't have it. Not now the crisis has sent even more of the populace into poverty. The beggars of our city need it more, and a lavish party won't do to boost _their_ 'morale'."

Wyman's hands shot up in defence, trying to temper the Empress's sudden aggravation. "Now, now… I think you're being a little too soft towards those- those... street-dwellers. If they had wanted more then couldn't they have worked for it harder?"

"Wym-" The Empress cut herself off and I knew she was glancing at me. I could always tell when her gaze touched me.

Wyman was quick to defend their words, their tone soft and apologetic. "I don't mean it like that, Em… All I'm saying is — there's often a reason why some fail where others succeed." I knew Wyman couldn't help it. They were but a product of their biased upbringing. The delusions of the Nobility were grand and widespread, and I knew it had taken a lot for the Empress to fully rid herself of them. There was nothing more humbling than being cast out. Some learned that lesson all too well.

The people in the room reacted with silent shock as I swiftly stood from my place, my eyes locking with Wyman's for a long moment. I'd never truly _looked_ at them before, not from a human perspective at least. Now that my perception of reality had been skewed, I found that I envied them in some ways. Their golden curls shimmered like a sun on water, and their features possessed the very delicacy mine lacked — they were refined and graceful, whereas I was rough and lanky. Their bright blue eyes shone with an innocence I'd lost centuries ago, and I could only hope — for their sake — they wouldn't lose it too. That innocence was part of why the Empress was happy to be with them, I knew. I'd often heard them recite poems together, their light laughter and easy-going relationship an escape from the harshness of the world, the very harshness I had been reborn to represent. They were everything I could never be.

I didn't say anything as I turned to leave, the final remnants of my meal easily ignored. Billie's hidden eye burned into my back with its crackling magic, scratching questions into my sensitive skin. But I knew she was overreaching, it wasn't all that deep; I simply wasn't in the mood for this particular topic, or perhaps these particular people.

* * *

"Pardon me if I'm overstepping my boundaries here," Sokolov uttered beneath his breath as he pricked a needle into one of my veins, a clear liquid pouring into my system immediately. "But what exactly was your social standing. As a human, I mean."

I studied his weathered skin as he worked, the aged epidermis hung loosely folded around his skull and the leathery texture of it was punctuated with pores and deep-set wrinkles.

"What do you think it was?" I wasn't in the mood for answering questions right now, I had too many questions of my own burning at the back of my mind.

"Well I've heard the songs, of course. And I've seen the signs, if I may call them that." He turned to inspect the container of clear liquid, carefully adding small, dark drops of another substance.

"Then why are you asking?" I used my free hand to support myself as I leaned back on the table I was sitting on. The cold of the room nipped at my bare torso, raising goosebumps all over my pale skin. Sokolov had repeated his measurements, uttering small words of wonder under his breath as he found change after change. Apparently I'd grown in all directions, slightly taller and a lot more filled out than I'd been before. My previously skeletal form was starting to look healthier, which made absolutely no sense to me as I had previously been said to be 'wilting' away — but then again magic had never made sense to me before.

"Curiosity, I suppose." His fingers wrapped around several tools as he used each in turn to check for different bodily signals.

"A dangerous habit." My words lacked conviction, knowing all too well the consequences of curiosity but feeling too detached to truly care about them myself.

Sokolov made noise of agreement under his breath, his fingers now shakily holding on to yet another instrument I didn't recognise. "I've been testing out different ratios of processed whale oil extractions, mixing them in with your food. It seems your body takes well to them, repairing itself much like it helps repair your wounds." He moved to scribble down some notes, muttering incomprehensible sentences beneath his breath before bringing his focus back to me. "But it's weak as of now. Too watered down — in order to prevent full poisoning — to stop the rapid ageing, exactly. It merely slows it ever so slightly. Not enough." He added a few more droplets of dark liquid, and this time I could feel it take immediate effect.

My veins glowed a hot white and my vision filled with flashes. The floor beneath me disappeared as all the surrounding walls tumbled down to reveal a vast array of fields containing produce, stretching all the way into the horizon where the dark shape of a crumbling hill fort blocked out the setting sun. I knew this place. I recognised the slight mounds of earth and muddy roadways. This was Dunwall, nearly 2000 years ago. Under the rule of Alexander Herrings, yet another corrupt king that exploited the land and the people. He'd meet his bloody demise soon — as most rulers did, bad or good. The knife never discriminated.

As soon as the fields had appeared, Dunwall Tower reconstructed itself back around me, revealing a tense Sokolov who held me with his pensive gaze. The experience was disconcerting, and it took me a few breaths before I felt myself stabilise again. The sounds of the Tower returned, louder than before. And with the increase of hearing came an unexpected increase of knowledge. My eyes shot towards Sokolov's, my brow tensing as I gazed at the weathered man. I could hear it clear as day now, the slight abnormality in his breathing. It instantly dawned on me and I knew he noticed.

"You're dying," I stated calmly, closely watching the elder.

He chuckled weakly, his heady breaths more resembling wheezing gasps now. "Aren't we all." He turned away again, scribbling down more of his findings.

After that we didn't talk much for a while, instead the room filled with nothing but the huff and puffs of steam and Sokolov's laboured breaths. Sometimes I swore I felt my limbs leave me, transported to places far away, and each passing minute made it increasingly harder for me to keep my intrigue at bay. I felt the words slip from my carefully sealed lips, leaking from the cracks and falling prey to the temptations of habit.

"Doesn't it scare you? You'll be drowning on air soon, choking and wheezing as each gasp for breath suffocates you further. I've seen it all before; it's the disease of wealth and progress, an accumulation of pleasures."

If Sokolov had felt anything regarding the words he did well in hiding it, mixing several compounds together as he continuously took notes on everything he did. "Well I've earned it," he rasped uncaringly, his apparent self loathing tinging his tone. I curiously eyed the old man, the Philosopher of the age, Physician to royalty. He was a far cry of the genius he'd been. Weakened. Fragile in both body and in mind.

"If there's anything I've learned it's that we rarely earn something. Things happen, it's up to chance — not virtue." The words were a bitter recollection of my own brief time of wandering this earth.

Sokolov eyed me warily. "I thought you'd be happy to see me punished." He studied me with an unreadable expression, but the words I'd spoken to him days ago still echoed in the depths of his eyes. I had never been a being of hate. Apathy, or sometimes disappointment, much closer described my usual state of mind and I wondered right then and there if the Physician had taken my scornful judgement for an expression of hatred.

"Punishment never brings me happiness."

The Physician glanced at me from underneath the thick hairs of his brow. "Hm," he grunted, turning away from me to once more focus on his work.

I continued regardless. "Those out for revenge often find themselves consumed by their own merit, burned by scorn and eaten by self pity."

"You should write a book," the old man quipped darkly in between coughs.

I didn't respond, my eyes drifting off to the steam powered machines. Water. It was everywhere. Water didn't feel nor bleed. Why was it then that humans insisted on butchering the whales if not out of necessity? Of course I knew why. Coin. Even with the advancements that had been made, the market was thusly invested that changing the source of power would lead to sure economic bankruptcy. Coin more often than not stood in the way of progress. "What if Whale Oil never regains its power?" I dared ask the working elder, surprising him yet again with my constant string of questions.

He seemed to ponder the query, eyes darting first from his tools to me and then towards the puffing machinery. "The world will adapt. But we _all_ know it's not the Whale Oil we're truly worrying about here." He sent me a grim look, more telling than anything he could say.

"What do you think will happen if we fail?" I felt breathless as I spoke the words, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth that I was sure would linger for days.

Sokolov hesitated before pointing a shaky finger towards my abdomen, towards the place where the gaping wound had been. "There'll be a tear within the kosmos." An unshakable feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, like icy water rising ever higher and freezing the life out of everything. I realised then that he wasn't all that worried with curing me. The infliction of mortality was incurable after all. "But you've known that, haven't you?" Sokolov paused, his grim eyes darting towards the wall behind us, the wall facing the ocean. "They know it." His body was wracked with several more coughs, his trembling fist rising to shield his mouth as he sputtered and gasped for air. I looked at the needle inserted into my vein, watching the subtle white glow that still emanated through my skin as I recalled the strange visions and changing landscape.

"What _are_ you working on?"

Sokolov sent me a meaningful look. "My days are numbered," he paused, his serious expression turning more morose as the seconds passed. "I'm sorry." I met his gaze head on, my face betraying nothing of my inner turmoil. Sokolov had uncovered more than I'd given him credit for, which I could probably chalk up to my own thoughtlessness. My mind tended to be foggy with emotion nowadays, my judgement no longer possessing the same detached clarity it did before my expulsion from the Void. I could blame it all on those hormones the Empress had mentioned, but I knew there was more to it than that. Each breath I took was one breath further away from the unyielding abyss, further away from the clearness of inhuman perception. I'd err. I knew I'd already done so. It was human to err. But the thought of me being human was still strange and wholly unfamiliar — as well as something I would probably never get used to.

"Do you think it selfish of me to want to stay?" That seemed to surprise the Physician, drawing his shocked eyes towards mine.

"I don't." He sounded winded, his gaze traveling the planes of my face curiously.

I nodded in response, turning to look at the vials he was holding. He followed my eyes, and watched the glass containers before moving to add more drops to the liquid that still poured through my veins, the white glow of my arteries intensifying. I could feel that familiar crackle of magic as it persisted, somehow more vibrant and alive within me. The lights in the room flickered and my vision swam with a million images, I was there and I wasn't. When the sensations calmed I could feel the rhythmic beating of my heart echo with a familiar hum. Sokolov carefully removed the needle and disinfected the small puncture wound before bandaging it. I flexed my arm and hand as soon as he was done, the uncomfortable sting still present even with the needle gone. I sent the Royal Physician a curious glance then, remarking on the tired set of his eyes.

"Your body will need some more time getting used to a higher dosage, but I believe these injections have the power to forge a new tether to the Void and artificially replace the one that was severed by the Eyeless." Sokolov's trembling fingers smoothed across his brow, his body moving to lean back against the creaking chair he occupied.

"You're only fattening me up for slaughter," I snorted as I took the articles of clothing he handed me, the silken fabric gone cold from disuse.

"Ironic. Isn't it?" He remarked dryly, the bitter tug twisting at his mouth also twisting at his words. I carefully slid off the table, my feet connecting with the wet concrete floor. A puddle revealed my reflection as I looked down to the ground, my features illuminated by the flickering lights — I didn't know what to think of the scruffy man who stared back at me, and it was Sokolov's sudden interruption that pulled me away from my own image. "You've reached your twenties. Enjoy them while you can."

I shot the old man a confused look, a frown pulling at my brow. He didn't elaborate, turning away to focus on a pile of books as soon as he'd said it. His words stayed with me as I made my way to the courtyard. I wasn't looking forward to my lesson with Corvo and I had to wonder what use it would be with him leaving the next day. I had the irking feeling that this wasn't necessarily about training me as much as it was about enforcing more distance between his daughter and I. I'd noticed his change in mood after the supposed rumours of our 'illicit affair'.

The Royal Protector had taken swift action in setting the record straight, immediately mending things between his daughter and the Morley noble. I vaguely noticed someone's heartbeat nearby, but before I could search the area I was surprised by a large hand that appeared to grab me out of nowhere, the familiar, masculine scent of Corvo catching me off guard. I could feel his breath tickle the shell of my ear as he stood directly behind me, his face hovering next to mine.

"You need to be more alert." His voice was as low and gruff as always.

"Innocent nobles usually don't get jumped by the Royal Protector, do they now, Corvo?" I drawled in a sarcastic lull, annoyed by the persistent touchiness of the man. His large hand slid off my shoulder as he moved to walk around me, his eyes trailing mine with each step he took.

" _Innocent_ nobles usually don't draw tasteful art of the Empress." He raised a questioning eyebrow at me and I tipped my head in response, a low chuckle rumbling in my chest.

"You'd be surprised, Corvo."

Corvo's brow furrowed at the comment, creating deep lines that spoke of all past frustrations within their shapes.

"I take it you've been snooping?" I crossed my arms in front of me.

"I am Spymaster," he deadpanned, his upper body leaning towards me to make a point.

"I thought it was the Spymaster's job to serve the Empress, not to spy on _her_ too."

Corvo snorted, his frown deepening in disagreement.

I decided to push a bit more. "How'd you know _I_ made it?"

"None of your business," he grunted, obviously not wanting to share just how much he'd been watching his daughter. It irked me to know Corvo had been lurking around more than I'd expected him to, which was another thing I could chalk up to my persistent and highly underestimated thoughtlessness, something I really needed to be more aware of in the future. This was sloppy, especially for me.

"What do you plan to do about it while you're gone?" I knew the question was a bold one, much more daring than what was to be considered wise — but my desire to know all possible outcomes ruled over my common sense.

The lines on Corvo's face deepened beyond what I thought had been possible, his skin deeply folding together around his eyebrows. "We have a cell down in the basement that has your name on it." He was baiting me, his eyebrows rising in challenge now.

"You don't know my name," I spoke breathlessly, inching backwards from the threat.

"Don't get smart with me." The Royal Protector further narrowed his eyes, taking another step towards me.

"You'd lock me up because of a portrait?" I raised my chin in response to his advancements, not keen on having the Royal Protector dominate the conversation.

"I'd lock you up because you're an ancient Void entity with a questionable moral code." He made a fair point and I wouldn't do well to deny it. He rightfully took my sudden silence as affirmation for his beliefs and I let him have it, his sharp eyes unrelenting as they burned into me. "Come on," he gestured for me to follow him, leading me further outside where the cold winds once more cut into my skin. Corvo continued to talk as we walked towards an exclusive part of the courtyard, the familiar gazebo sticking out like a sore thumb in the distance. "Since I won't be around to save your skinny ass," he started, "you'll need to know the basics of defence."

I nodded reluctantly, not very happy with my current predicament.

Corvo halted in front of me and took a stance, his legs equally positioned beneath his hips and distributing his weight as well as increasing his balance. I'd already learned that from my lessons on etiquette and posture, if I could call them that. "For starters, there are several weak-spots in the body you need to know." He inclined his head at me, "do you know any of them?"

I shook my head, never having been too interested in the physiological details of humanity. Corvo's hand moved to motion at a number of areas around his body, circling his chest where his rib cage connected first.

"The solar plexus is an important one, it's easy to leave the enemy winded when applying a measured amount of force right here." His hand then went on to point at his shins and feet. "When your arms are constrained you can try to use your legs, kicking your enemy against their shins or stomping on their insteps. Of course, the easiest point of attack against males would be the groin." He broadly gestured at his crotch for emphasis and I was about to click my tongue at his overt display when he continued his monologuing, his sharp eyes observing me purposefully. "When wrestling for control, the eyes and windpipe are easily accessible. You can use your hands or fingers and don't need the same amount of controlled force as you'd need on other places."

I nodded to everything he said, not paying full attention as I became increasingly distracted by the pleasant feeling of sunshine that spilled down my collar, warming my shoulders and back in a constant battle with the persistent cold of the wind.

"Now when it comes to actual combat, you probably won't stand much of a chance," he scoffed. "But there are some things you could keep in mind." I felt my center start to gradually warm as my skin continued to drink in the rays of the burning inferno that lay beyond the veil of this meagre planet. "Always try to evade any attack the enemy might throw at you, rather keep your distance and retreat. When charged, use the direction and speed of the enemy to ward them off." Corvo's hands danced in front of him to help enunciate each sentence.

I nodded again, stifling a yawn. I was feeling worn out by the day already, and I wondered if Sokolov's experimentation was to blame, or perhaps my restless dreams had a thing to do with it — I was wise enough to quickly steer clear from the memory of those as I watched the father of my very visions relay his knowledge on defensive actions to me.

"I'll demonstrate; you charge." He quickly adjusted his posture, lowering himself and shuffling his feet further apart. I noticed the sudden movement and snapped my full focus back to the Royal Protector.

"Excuse me?"

"Charge me," Corvo ordered in a low grunt.

I hesitated, wondering just what exactly he wanted me to do, until I gave up and decided I'd just go with it. I ran at the Royal Protector with measured steps, my feet still finding it hard to properly balance my body whenever I made such exaggerated movements. I watched as Corvo readied himself, controlled his breathing and narrowed his eyes. When I reached him he was quick to react, twisting his body with trained agility and grabbing onto my moving form as he used the momentum I'd built to throw me off balance.

The sudden jerk surprised me, and I felt a short burst of blinding static shoot through my body, a deafening sizzle filling my sensitive ears. When I realised I was no longer moving, I quickly glanced around me to see what had happened. When my eyes met Corvo's, I noticed his grave expression. I was about to ask what I did when he provided me the answer before I'd even had a chance to open my mouth to speak.

"You flickered."

I frowned as I became aware of the familiar crackle that now wrapped around my bones, sneaking through my limbs beneath the cover of my skin. My gaze darted around the space we occupied distractedly.

"Where to?" I asked, my mind working hard to recall what I'd seen and felt in that brief fraction of a second.

"Nowhere." The Royal Protector closed the space between us, his dark eyes trained on my form as if it might happen again at any moment. "You were just gone."

My frown deepened, my fingers wrapping around one of my ritual rings as I twisted it in thought. Corvo watched me carefully, waiting for me to speak again. My eyes shot back to his face, my back straightening. "Do you think we could make it happen again?" I asked.

Corvo seemed uncertain of the request at first, his watchful gaze scanning our little corner of the courtyard in suspicion. I continued to stare at him as I mulled over the possibilities. I'd been fully aware of the constant hum of magic within me ever since I'd left Sokolov, and I also knew my exposure to Whale Oil had triggered magical occurrences within me before. Could it be that Sokolov's experimentation was supplying me with my own source of magic? Was that what he meant when he told me he'd artificially restore my tether? My tether to the Void hadn't granted me special powers before, so what exactly was he tethering me to?

My eyes widened when a vague, possible hint of an answer started to form, but I wasn't able to finish the thought due to Corvo's hands — which roughly slammed into my body, leaving me winded like he'd said it would, but also caused me to lose my balance, forcing me to fall to the hard ground beneath me. My arms quickly moved to break my fall out of pure and immediate impulse, and the action left me wincing painfully as the stones beneath tore into my skin. I skidded and tumbled across the hard dusty surface, my cheek grazed the sharp tiles and I could feel the wetness of blood as it trickled down my broken skin. Dust floated around my form in a suffocating cloud that filled my lungs and I hastily attempted to get up, my limbs clumsily searching for something to grasp and help me regain my balance.

A sudden hand wrapped around mine tightly, and I immediately looked up in surprise, only to find Corvo standing over me — a dissatisfied look on his face. He helped pull me back to my feet and my uncertain gaze darted to nothing in particular.

"Sorry," he grunted earnestly, lowering his head to try and get me to look at him. "I thought it might work if I surprised you."

I nodded absentmindedly, my gaze slowly lifting to meet his. He frowned at my injuries, his large hand moving to wipe some of the dirt from my cheek. My first reaction was to flinch away, but Corvo's patient approach allowed me the time I needed to calm myself and stay put — still somewhat hesitant to trust the Royal Protector. He was more gentle in his movements than I would've expected him to be, his warm eyes set in an apologetic look as they carefully held mine. "It's easy to forget how vulnerable you are," he mumbled, and I felt my eyes narrow at his sudden change of attitude. He was quick to catch on to my distrust, his sharp gaze that so resembled the Empress's rarely seemed to miss a thing. "That wasn't the first time someone did that to you," he paused, diverting his eyes for a moment before continuing, "I can tell."

I frowned at the words, not sure how to react. I felt embarrassed that he'd been able to see something I hadn't even expected to carry around still; a scar I wasn't willing to acknowledge in the slightest. His words cut all the deeper for it and left me reasonably soured.

"I'm sorry." He rested his large hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"It's okay, Corvo." I looked off into the distance, at the dancing waves that seemed to mock me for all my personal shortcomings. "It doesn't matter." I squared my shoulders, causing Corvo's hand to slide off, and retreated towards Dunwall Tower — the tower of a man trailing behind me in silence.

* * *

Corvo led me into the dining room, his hand reluctantly gesturing for me to enter as the other held the door. I didn't meet the gazes of the people already seated around the long table, swiftly moving to sit beside Lurk — who sent Corvo an annoyed look.

"You always beat up kids?" She asked indignantly at the sight of my torn pants and scraped cheek, her arms and body turning towards me to inspect the damage. "Anton do something about this," she complained as she noticed the cuts on my knees.

"Father, I thought you were teaching him self-defense? Not beating him to a pulp!" The Empress managed to sound shocked.

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but why are you training a Noble, Sir Corvo?" Wyman asked, the question purely curious, their eyes inspecting the damage done to my face, and I had to fight the temptation of wanting to spit in theirs.

"He's sick. Self-defense is a good core-strengthening exercise," Corvo sounded distracted, his words lacking the conviction they usually carried.

"Oh. Well I suppose it could be," Wyman laughed nervously in response to the Royal Protector's blatant disinterest.

"Will you stop touching me?" I softly urged the former assassin next to me as she continued to inspect my body for other signs of injury. The comment earned me a slap across the head as she sent me a threatening glare.

"Don't let them push you around like that, kid." Her voice was low and serious, only meant for my ears, and her sole visible eye softened as it met mine. She sat back as she cleared her throat, sending Corvo a final annoyed look. I flinched when two light hands took hold of my shoulders, pulling my body around to meet the stern face of the Empress. Her eyes scanned mine as my heart beat in my throat, my chest high and tight with the breath I was holding. Her fingers moved across my face and stroked through the strands of hair that covered my forehead.

"He's not a child, Emily."

She shot her father an angry look. "He's our guest, not a punching bag." Her eyes traveled back to my face as she took in the damage done, letting out a soft hiss at the angry scratches that cut into my right cheek. I made a point to look at anything but her face, my gaze awkwardly inspecting the wall behind her bent frame. I could feel Wyman's tense stare burn into my back, imagining them wary of the Empress's concern.

"I'll have him patched up in no time," Sokolov rasped from next to Billie. "Nothing to worry about, child." I could imagine how she bit her lip, the movement barely visible from the corner of my eye as the nearness of her face unsettled me. The places where her fingers had gently traced across my features felt unpleasantly cold, and vaguely reminded me of when Lurk had swiftly pulled the comfortable bed linen from my body — the pleasant warmth ripped away and rapidly replaced by the unwelcoming cold of the room.

If the Empress had noticed my unease she didn't show it, her hand darting across my skin one final time before she stood to reclaim her seat. I dared a single curious glance at her face, and noticed the way she was watching Corvo, her amber eyes fixated on her father, who appeared to be lost to his thoughts — oblivious to his daughter's scrutiny. Dinner from there on was a muted event, the people in the room speaking in mostly muffled voices. I didn't bother to reply to anyone this time, eating my meal without looking up even once. I was acutely aware of the glances sent my way; even Wyman couldn't keep their eyes away from me.

After a while I registered Corvo's baritone voice as he softly spoke to the Empress, the clatter of cutlery drowning out their conversation. When dinner was over, and almost everyone had left the room, Sokolov grimly turned to me as he moved to attend to my injuries. His thin fingers were tightly wrapped around the familiar container of his neutralised Whale Oil, the black, grimy substance hissing at his touches as he deeply twisted his fingers into the thick matter. He'd occasionally lift his arm to help cover up his mouth whenever another fit of coughs wracked his body. Billie stood nearby, watching as my skin glowed at the sizzling touch of the healing goo. This time I caught snippets of days past, familiar laughter around a small fire, an umber hand resting on my shoulder, the glint of a red eye.

"You look positively radiant today, Whale Boy." Lurk's voice held a friendly tone as it mocked me, the former assassin softly approaching to closer inspect the Whale Oil at work.

"I'm not a whale," I rebutted, momentarily closing my eyes to keep my focus as the visions slowly faded.

"I'm pretty sure Emily noticed too, like moths to a flame I say," she mused, and I could hear the smirk in her tone.

"You ate a moth when you were eight," I said matter-of-factly, opening my eyes to meet Lurk's gaze, and I noticed Sokolov chuckle beneath his breath as his fingers worked on my scraped knees. "Your small hands wrapped around its fragile form, sheltering its frail wings from the harsh place you took it from." I made a cupping motion with my hands to imitate a younger Lurk for emphasis. "Until hunger took over and the harshest place imaginable lay within your own tiny fists."

"Think you're being clever, huh?" Billie dropped down next to the Physician, fixing me with a pointed stare. "Don't think you'll manage to change the subject, kid." She swung a stern finger at me, narrowing her one eye.

I watched her carefully, my schooled expression carefully hiding my slight discomfort with her sudden approach. "I usually refrain from interfering too much, I prefer to flow with the natural course of things." I tipped my head at her, narrowing my eyes.

"Bet that's not the only thing you'd like to flow with," she quipped, and Sokolov let out another chuckle, a rather sickly sound of amusement in his case.

"You're leaving tomorrow, you'll be 'flowing' far away. I think you'll like that. I will, at least," I sneered, crossing my arms to erect another barrier between me and the exuberant woman.

"Are you saying you'll miss me?" She teased, a mocking smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

I frowned, not used to such blatant and vaguely companionable taunting. "On the contrary, but I know you've never been one to linger on the subtle complexity of language."

Her teasing smile widened as she raised an eyebrow at me, and I could tell I would hate whatever she'd say next by the mere image of her. "Need me to tell you about the birds and the bees before I go?" Her voice was sultry, and Sokolov let out a cough that I knew had nothing to do with his declining health.

"I think you're forgetting who I am," I countered, "I've been witness to the evolution of the birds and the bees before you were even born."

Billie sat back, her teasing expression stilted to a deadpan. "Gee kid, no wonder the Abbey's always on your ass, couldn't even fuck without the Outsider popping in and out."

I blinked in stunned silence at the audacious remark.

"Alright, I'm done, if you two will excuse me." Sokolov threw up his hands as he stood, turning from the conversation and headed straight for the door with a slight limp in his step, his shoulders raised stiffly as if to shield him from our words.

Lurk let out an audible sigh as soon as the door clicked in its place. "Thought he'd never leave," she grumbled beneath her breath before turning her full attention back to me, elbows lowering to rest on her strong legs. "I need you to tell me the truth right now, before I leave tomorrow." All previous traces of humour had been replaced by a tone of grave urgency, the room's atmosphere heavily changed by her altering attitude.

"I'm have nothing to tell you about the whales, Lurk," I insisted, glaring at her.

"Not the whales," she dismissed the notion with the wave of her single visible hand. "Anton. Will he be alright?" Her concern for the old man caught me off guard. I knew they were close, but I hadn't expected her to be this worried about him at this point, seeing as she wouldn't even have been with him at this point if it hadn't been for me.

"You're quite presumptuous if you think I hold all the answers," I deflected, luring her out first.

"I know you know this. He knows it," her eye flitted towards the door Sokolov had exited through. "He's hiding something." For all her time on the streets, Lurk had developed a commendable ability to read people, quite contrary to how she often dispositioned herself.

"You're sharp."

"And you're avoiding the question. Tell me," her voice was clipped and sharp, speaking volumes of her true emotional investment.

"I don't want to meddle like that, Lurk," I sighed, I had already been annoyed by Corvo's past coercion and this was adding insult to injury.

"You meddled for Emily all those years ago, so you'd do good to explain your shifty morals when I get back, _if I get back_ , but first help me. For once. Help." A hint of pain leaked into her expression, and I knew right then how much she actually feared she might not make it back alive, and knowing those thoughts were on her mind, yet she did nothing to force me to tell her own fate made me look at her with renewed respect.

"He's sick," I uttered breathlessly. "Soon there'll be no more air left in his lungs."

Billie nodded. "Will he be here when I get back?" She inclined her head at me, her voice lowering as she her tense gaze held mine.

I hesitated, "I don't know." I felt my chest constrict, an echo of a feeling long forgotten.

"You don't know or you won't say?"

I frowned, diverting my eyes and inspecting my pale hands where they rested in my lap instead. "I don't know."

Lurk nodded, leaning back in her chair. After some time she spoke again, her voice softer now. "Will you be here if I get back?"

My heart stuttered within my chest, and an itch crept up my back. I looked up to meet her gaze once more, her eye unrelenting. "No."

Lurk took a deep breath at my words, her carefully controlled expression neutral and resigned. "I see," her eye stayed glued to my face as she spoke. "Do me a favour, kid," a sad smile tugged at her lips, "live a little." She wouldn't know my familiarity with the words. No one did. So I just nodded.

* * *

I'd been lying awake for hours, my mind too occupied with thousands of varying thoughts. Tomorrow would be the day, and my guts protested the prospect. From behind the barriers of stone and glass I could hear the deep-sea tunes of the whales as they bellowed their usual sorrowful chorus. They were louder than ever, and I was certain they were partly to blame for my inability to rest — the other part being the strange pull I felt, begging me to get up and walk these thoughts out of my mind.

After several more minutes of tossing and turning I gave in, pushing the covers off me as my bare feet lowered down to the wooden floor. I could hear the slight creak of the boards as my weight pushed rested against them. The air was cool, but not too cold to warrant more than the nightshirt and loose pants I was wearing. The light of the moon poured in through the windows, painting my room in silver. I tried to commit the space to memory, taking a few deep breaths of air to appreciate the clean and nicely scented atmosphere. The urge to wander only grew stronger now that I'd left the warmth of bed, the pooling darkness calling me to it in a language written by shadows.

The dead of night invigorated my body with a strange liveliness — the crackling magic pulsing and prickling beneath my skin, like static. It joined with the rhythm of my heart, traveling and mixing with my blood. The door that led to the hallway let out a slow squeak as I pushed against its wooden surface, carefully peeping out from the safety of my room. My sensitive ears were able to confirm the absence of any guards, my feet gingerly crossing the small space between my quarters and the hallway. Each step in the silent tranquility of the ever-watching walls felt like a step closer to home, my racing heart pounding loudly in my ears.

The desolate darkness felt unusually safe, like it was urging me to go on, to linger in this secret space in-between time and sleep. And so I walked without a destination, existing only between the cracks of moonlight. The silence around me felt as if the Void itself bled into the world and snuffed out the noise of this realm. I was acutely aware of my own breathing and heartbeat, the natural rhythms like drums in the surrounding orchestra of whale-song. I had wandered for several minutes when I noticed another heartbeat, a gentle sound that lured me to it. A slight scent traveled through the air and I recognised it immediately, my heart breaking rhythm and stuttering as I rounded the nearest corner, careful not to make any noise.

My eyes strained to see in the presiding dark that blanketed the small space, but I caught the subject of my dreams sitting against a wall, her sharp features illuminated by the light that trickled in through the large windows before her. She was staring — but her eyes weren't looking. Instead her mind's eye seemed to be working overtime as the hints of thought reflected in those warm eyes, their amber hue lightened by the cold brightness of the moon. Her long, slender neck entirely visible in absence of the scarf she often wore, and I felt my eyes linger at the sight of the bare patch of vulnerable skin, the woman before me appearing less like the regal Empress and more like the wandering girl that had cried out once — in the haunting depths of the Void.

Her hair was loose, dark locks spilling over her narrow shoulders. She was wearing white sleeping garments, a silken dress that flowed against her lithe form, her feet peeking out from under the edges. Her skin looked darker at night, her foreign heritage more evident than ever. It took her some time to notice my presence, but when she did I registered the way she quickly erected the invisible walls she always seemed to inhabit, the vulnerable girl I witnessed moments ago gone at once.

"What are you doing?" She managed to mask her surprise well, but not well enough to completely elude me.

I shrugged as I continued to stare at her. "I can't sleep," I replied honestly, carefully moving closer now that I'd been spotted. Her amber eyes tracked me, suspiciously watching my every move. I felt emboldened by the darkness that surrounded us, adrenaline shooting through me in my night-time high.

"Wha-?" She let out a surprised sound when I dropped down against the opposite wall, my eyes never leaving her face. I sat there watching, my form wrapped in shadows and hers bathed in light — a contrast that ironically served to illustrate our differences. She opened and closed her mouth several times, moving to say something, but each time thinking better of it. Instead she dropped her head against the wall behind her, returning my stare in equal silence. I could hear the flutter of her heart, the delicacy of her breathing. Young and full of life, her skin shining with a healthy glow that made me want to know what it would feel like beneath the tips of my fingers.

"You look better," she noted, a strange lilt to her voice.

I squinted my eyes, trying to see more of her, more of what lay hidden inside those walls. "Better than terrible?" I was grateful for the shadows that blurred my image, hid the minute changes of my expressions as I found it hard to keep my curiosity at bay.

"Better than pretty good." Her face didn't change, her stiff shoulders perfectly straight against the barrier behind her, as if forced up by those walls of hers.

"Meaning I looked pretty good already?"

This did elicit a small reaction from her, a lift of her eyebrows, her toes that touched and moved against each other. "Your eyes have a strange glow." She'd avoided the question, and I'd learned such evasiveness was often more telling. My thoughts wandered for a moment, to times long gone, to small girls and bad dreams.

"Does that scare you?" I could make out the slight narrowing of her eyes, the increased focus. She was analysing my question, picking it apart, dissecting it. I could see her try to unearth meaning, forcibly pulling and dragging the bowels from the query, cut apart by her thoughts.

"No," she was short in her reply, allowing a silence to fall between us in which we simply stared at each other, sitting within the atmospheric emptiness of the abandoned hallway, severed from the thread of reality. The Empress's eyes roamed me, each passing minute encouraging an increasing boldness within her. I noticed the subtle way my own curiosity was slowly mirrored in her gaze, and it reminded me of Billie's words. Like moths to a flame, we were drawing each other in, our reservations slowly drifting away from us. The Empress took a deep breath that caused her chest to rise, the thin fabric of her gown accentuated the swell of her breasts in a way that seemed a little too intentional. "Have you ever been with a woman?" She inched slightly forward, her dress rustling softly as she folded her legs beneath her and wrapped her fingers around her now exposed calves.

I felt the wall behind me press into my spine, the windowsill digging into the back of my skull as my weight shifted backwards in response to her slight movement. "No."

She hadn't expected me to answer — as I rarely did — but this time I felt more intrigued by what she'd do when faced with the full truth, rather than withholding most of it. She chewed the inside of her cheek as her fingers moved against her calves, the dusky skin increasingly more distracting. I watched her gaze flit across my body, roaming the places where my pale skin laid beneath the fabric of my clothes. She leant forward, carefully, observing my reaction as if I might have been a skittish bird that could flee at any moment. I tempered my natural reaction to move away, securely grounding myself on the floor beneath me.

She noticed my lack of movement and took it as an opportunity to get even closer, her hands leaving the curves of her calves and coming to rest on the carpet before her, supporting her weight as she lifted herself towards me. Her knee turned beneath her and carried her as she crawled forwards with a cat-like grace, her eyes still glued to mine in an unspoken expectation that I'd bolt when pushed too far. I didn't. My breath hitched when one of her hands came to rest on my thigh, the warmth of her skin soaking through the fabric of my pants. She watched my reactions intently, her eyes filled with a naive wonder I easily recognised. Her other hand took my raised knee and pushed it down to the floor, simultaneously lifting herself as she settled herself in my lap, her legs straddling my hips and her nightgown flowing across my limbs. I could feel the full heat of her as her body melded against mine in a way that felt entirely too good and too complete for it to be acceptable for a thing like me.

"Why are you doing this?" I spoke cautiously, as if too much sound might shatter the realm we'd unconsciously sunken into.

She was watching me still with that same look, as if I was a shiny and pretty little thing to observe, and I had registered the breathless sound of my own voice as air eluded me — all I could breathe was her, and she filled my lungs with nothing but hot smoke and my coiling muscles with electricity as they shivered beneath her. Before I knew it her hand was beneath my shirt and it lay splayed out over the place where my heart beat at a frantic pace. The sensation of her skin against mine sent ripples of crackling energy through me, and I felt entirely too exposed as she carefully registered the very reactions I couldn't hide — and I had to give her credit for her cleverness in doing so.

"Because you're something I don't understand," her voice was soft, like gently moulded air forming secret thoughts, instead of intentionally spoken sentences. "And whenever I look at you, I see the ghost of a person in your eyes." She leant forward, her moving body gently sliding against mine, and in response I felt a soft sound escaping my throat. Her cheek brushed against the side of my face, the softness of her skin caressing mine as her lithe body pressed against me, deepening the ache within my now burning center. "Who is that?" Her heady whisper tickled my skin and erected goosebumps and shivers alike.

I felt my eyes flutter closed as I broke beneath her hands and relished the sensations that crashed over me as I drowned within the waves of her, and soon she completely engulfed me until it seemed I could breathe no more. My hands moved on their own accord as they gently swept up her thighs, slipping beneath her gown as they explored the expanse of her skin, drinking in the feel of her. They came to rest on the small of her back, the lively feeling of her tight muscles moving beneath my fingers new and exciting — and absolutely not okay.

And the sense that this was something I'd been robbed of, something I had and would forever be denied made me pull her even closer, tightly wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing my face into the crook of her neck. I could hear the way her breathing sped up as my actions caught her off guard, her body noticeably stiffening on top of me. I shouldn't — but this wasn't real, for now, what happened here would never see the light of day — yet I could already feel the self-loathing pour under my skin like ice that snuffed out that delicious fire within me, and I could already hear myself cursing my own weakness.

But not now, not now.

So I nuzzled the delicious curve of her neck as I breathed in the familiar scent of her, enjoying something wholly unbidden and impossible, my lips graced her skin as they lifted to her ear and memorised the intoxicating taste of her upon them, my warm breath heated the places it caressed and my fingers soaked up every addictive detail of her body — like a rare treasure found — she was diamond and I was stone, and she would have cut me to dust if I hadn't been dirt already.

"Emily." I whispered — my voice thick and primal and ancient — in a sorrowful tone long forgotten and long gone. "He's dead."

I could feel her body still as I spoke the words, a subtle tremble traveling through her limbs as I continued to hold her to me. I opened my eyes as she moved back, her questioning gaze burning into mine. Her walls had been effectively blown away, and in that moment she looked absolutely breathtaking, from her shapely lips to the slight tilt of her sharp nose, she was enough for me to desperately want to pretend that I wasn't who I was. But I knew I'd never been good at pretending, and she would pay a heavy price if she kept up her own dangerous game of pretence.

"Don't let curiosity rip your soul in half for someone who has none." The parts of me that had leaked into my tone before were carefully stored away again, but not without one final act of defiance as I lifted a hand to cup her cheek, fighting off the grimace as the hurt — something I hadn't expected myself still capable of feeling — of her game started to set in, whilst allowing myself a final indulgence before the sun would rise, before reality would shift back into place and would tear it all to pieces.

She seemed surprised by the gesture and the tenderness of it, her parted lips closing as her teeth dug into them out of that wholly endearing habit of hers, and I felt a rare smile tug at mine. Her lips parted again to speak but I shook my head to silence her, her sharp eyes searching mine with the words I took away.

"You'll regret it. Because you are good and uncorrupted, and entirely too naïve to continue reminding yourself that I am none of those things," I whispered. I didn't wait for her to say anything as my hands left her, and I took a hold of her narrow frame and lifted her off of me with surprising ease, the places where her body had been pressed against immediately cold in the absence of her. I crawled to a stand, leaving towards my room without looking back — because looking back would confront me with the terrible mistake I'd made; letting her reach into the deepest parts of me so easily, allowing her graceful hands to wrap around my guts and heart, spilling them like a whale hung for slaughter.

And I settled back in the familiar comfort of my bed as my white knuckles and twisted fingers held together my stomach with all their might, the whales bellowing from beneath in those same sorrowful notes that mocked me for my own pity.

Because the sun would rise. And the day would tear it all to pieces.


	7. Walk

Consequences always had a funny way of catching up to you — I'd learnt that lesson better than anyone else. I had been the prime witness of consequence through the centuries. I had watched people face retribution more often than I'd seen them rewarded.

As I'd noticed my failing perception, I'd also noticed my quickly worsening inability to stay neutral. I'd been able to salvage myself from feelings for a long time, I knew this particular predicament had been boiling beneath the surface just as long. I'd made a mistake by getting too attached, once, and I thought I'd learnt from it.

I hadn't.

And now that I found myself waking — basking in the warmth of the sun, bright rays burning their way through faceted glass — I realised there was absolutely nothing separating me from what I'd done. The day cleansed the night away but did nothing to cleanse my conscience. Not even the cold water that bit into my flesh, until each drop felt like a serrated knife cutting meat from bone, could combat the memory of skin-to-skin contact — of soft planes and arching curves.

I clenched my eyes shut as I rubbed my face with my hands — the same hands that had smoothed across long legs, shaped by sinewy muscle. The hands that now scrubbed at my skin until it was red and raw, close to bleeding. She was everywhere: from a small breeze that tickled me and reminded me of her breath — to the feeling of silk sliding across my frame, like her soft cheek had against mine. I swore I could still taste her on my lips, her distinctive natural scent lingering all around me.

My feet were leaden, as I ruefully made my way towards the dining room, knowing what I'd have to face. I wasn't surprised to find everyone already seated at the table, their heads turning to see who entered. The Empress sat at the head, as she always did, her eyes shooting up to meet mine. She held my gaze boldly as I paused at the entrance, one hand leaning against the door, if only to make sure I wouldn't succumb to my failing legs right then and there. I quickly turned to glance at the other occupants before entering. Billie was looking rather amused... My blood ran cold for a moment, the tickle of her magical eye carressed my skin. She knew.

I was seated across from Wyman again, Lurk and Sokolov flanking me.

"Whoa Mel, you heal fast." The Morley noble looked at me in awe, their blue eyes wide with wonder.

"It's my new medicine, it should hit the market soon," Sokolov rasped from beside me, redirecting the noble's attention. I nodded in silence, afraid I'd betray my sins if I uttered so much as a word. As if on cue the conversation picked up from where it had been cut off by my entrance.

"I've opened up a reasonable budget that should see to your needs while you're away." The Empress's contemplative mind was distinctly audible in her tone as she addressed her father.

A warm hand was placed on my arm, drawing my attention to Lurk's conspiratorial features.

"I expect to make my return within two weeks." The timbre of Corvo's voice traveled from the other side of the table. "You'd do well to take caution in the meantime; my absence will be noted quickly."

"Can we talk, later?" she whispered.

"Yes father, I know how to protect myself." Annoyance contaminated the Empress's voice, and the Royal Protector lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Duly noted," he grumbled in response.

"Why?" I narrowed my eyes at the dark-skinned woman, keeping my voice low, very aware of Corvo's suspicious glances.

"Meagan will be in charge of the ship I've acquired for the both of you," the Empress continued.

"Because I have something for you." There was a sense of urgency in Lurk's hushed tones.

"Meagan, could you stop whispering during breakfast?" Corvo interfered.

She feigned innocence. "I was just telling my dear Mel what a handsome young man he is." Her voice was mockingly sweet as she dramatically batted her eyelashes at Corvo.

"That wasn't at all what you were saying," I parried, my face scrunched up at the claims.

"Of course it was, you're just not used to compliments, is all." Lurk feigned a laugh that quickly transformed into a sneer as she turned to the Royal Protector. "You could do to give the kid a compliment, old-timer."

Corvo frowned at the both of us.

I slowly blinked at Lurk, wary of her words. This was the second time she'd called me handsome, a word no one generally used to describe the Outsider — except for Vera Moray. But _she_ had done much more than just call me handsome, hadn't she? I recalled the dried hand kept by Paolo and mentally shuddered.

"As I was saying," the Empress steered the conversation back to business, effectively grabbing her father's attention, "I've managed to acquire a small but hospitable vessel for the both of you. It has been provisioned accordingly."

I tuned out the Empress's dull planning, shifting my gaze to the windows. They were there, still — waiting. I felt my hands unthinkingly wrap around the thin porcelain of my plate, my body rising from the chair — drawn towards the unearthly music. The Empress's speech wavered, her gaze briefly following my form along with the other guests. I ignored their questioning looks as I slowly approached the high structures of glass, the distant sea revealing itself before me.

They were waiting there, their large bodies invisible to the human eye beneath the churning of waves. They had come for me, their esoteric spirits acutely attuned to mine. I stood and watched the places where I knew they hid below, their cacophony uninterrupted. I knew the whales possessed eyes capable of seeing both worlds at once, the thin veil that separated us from the mirroring Void non-existent to their gazes. They swam in between the cracks, in the small streams that branched through this dimension like veins beneath skin.

I had been cursed with their eyes once, cursed to watch all that stretched through, next, and beyond. Now I saw only my reflection in the glass and the shimmering waves that lay just out of reach, the eternal abyss no longer weaving through reality. It felt good. Normal, almost.

Almost. I had to fight the bitter snort that threatened to escape me.

* * *

"Mel, wait up!" Wyman's voice called after me, their light footsteps speed-walking as they tried to catch up with me. "Hey, listen," their usually airy tone was urgent now, a line in between their brows that looked entirely too foreign on their sunny features, "we need to talk."

I continued to walk as they quickly fell into step with me, my hands shoved into my pockets in a manner I knew they, and their 'prim and proper' upbringing, should disprove of.

"Then talk." My voice was well-composed in its neutrality.

"Um, okay. Well." They scratched the back of their head with one hand, the other fumbling with the hem of their jacket. "A few days ago, something rather odd happened." They hesitated. "I didn't think much of it at first, reckoning that, you know, I was reading into things." They continued to stumble, their words clipped and hasty. "But then the headlines followed, the ones about you and Em, I mean, and there was something I — I think I might have picked up on something."

I stopped, turning to look at them fully. "Why would you warn me?" I asked before they could get to the point, catching them off guard and causing them to fumble even more.

"Em and I… we care for each other a lot, always have." They glanced down at their shoes, expensive and immaculately clean. "I don't intend to intrude on whatever it is the two of you have... It's obvious you two share some history I've never been clued in on, perhaps she has good reasons of her own, and I respect that-"

"We don't," I interrupted them.

"Excuse me?"

"Have history. We don't."

Their mouth formed a small 'o' as they searched for how exactly they might respond. I glanced sideways, to the nearby window that captured the Wrenhaven within its frame.

"Regardless," their voice was soft yet firm, "it would do me no good to watch and do nothing."

We truly were polar opposites, I realised, turning back to them.

"There's a man, I forgot his name, he came up to me — only a few days ago, before the headlines."

I crossed my arms, watching their expressions intently.

"He asked me whether I knew you or not, which of course I didn't — not really. But it's strange, isn't it? And then the other day… Mel, are you… are you in some kind of trouble?"

I suspected they had built a story around these tidbits of information they'd managed to scrounge up. How I'd seemed uncannily familiar to the Empress and her Royal Protector, how I was carefully tended to by the old Royal Physician, and how Corvo took it upon himself to train me.

"We are not always what others might perceive us to be, you would know — would you not, Wyman?" I tasted their name on my tongue, a delicate flavour, with a history I had gleaned enough of to know better than to judge them only by their appearance. "Sometimes I too ponder the possibilities of escaping the cutting ropes bound to us by our corrupt society, as I suspect you have as well. I can tell you that it pays not to conform, for the demands are endless and taxing. What might the results amount to, if not to your own unhappiness? This body I possess," I paused to look down at my hands, at the two rings meticulously placed around two of my fingers, before turning to gaze at the noble. "Your body." Their eyes rounded with fright. "What are they worth, in the end? Within the Void?"

"I- What do you...?"

I lifted my right hand and placed it on their sleek shoulder, stunning them to silence as I moved my thumb to touch the warm skin of their neck — watching their expression as their brows furrowed in muted confusion until they felt it, their jaw unhinging as they gasped at the sensation, their wide eyes roaming my face in question. They opened their mouth to ask me what it had been, but I spoke before the words could be formed.

"The Empress is as much a fool as the company she keeps," I whispered wryly, sliding my hand off their shoulder and turning away, continuing my journey.

Wyman didn't move to follow me, but I knew they watched me go with great confusion. They didn't understand now, but they would — in due time. In due time, all would be revealed and there would be no more pretence. For any of us.

I knocked on Billie's door. Her room was near mine in the guest wing, and it hadn't been too hard to find. The location of said room also explained her acute awareness of what I'd been up to the night prior, the hallway I'd found myself drawn to only a short distance away.

She opened the door in silence, sending a dry look my way and curtly gesturing for me to come inside. I did, and I was quick to notice the similarities to my own room; the exact same furniture filled the space and even the draperies were identical. But then again, all draperies within the tower appeared to be identical, and I was reminded of the vision of worn, trembling hands I'd recalled.

"We leave in an hour or so, so we don't have much time." Lurk had already made her way across the space, headed to where she'd packed a few suitcases full of clothes and other necessities she'd been given by the Empress. She opened a fancy drawer and pulled out what looked to be her own clothes, the familiar red a stark contrast to the royal blues that surrounded us. She used her bandaged arm to hold the pieces in her lap as the other searched the pockets, her face twisted up in concentration whilst her teeth gnawed on the inside of her cheek.

She clicked her tongue when she appeared to have found what she was looking for, swiftly removing her hand from within the fabric and turning her body to face mine. I recognised the thing she held clutched between her deft fingers, its dried surface as disgustingly repulsive in the real world as it had looked from the Void.

"I want you to take this," she urged, straightening her arm and holding out the vile relic.

"Why?" I questioned, turning up my nose at the nearness of it.

Lurk sent me an annoyed frown, a set of lines creasing her skin. "Because I expect you to give it back to me when I return."

It was my turn to frown. "I can't."

"I don't think I spoke clearly so let me repeat that;" Lurk tipped her head, continuing to hold out the rotted talisman, "I. Expect. You. To. Give. It. Back." She enunciated each word.

"I-"

"Promise me." She waved the thing in front of me. "Promise me you'll give it back."

I eyed the object reluctantly, my chest constricting with the near impossibility of such a promise. I bit my tongue before letting out a weary sigh. "I promise." My fingers wrapped around the relic, its rough texture unpleasant against my skin. I recalled the flashes I'd seen the day before: glimpses of laughter and merry fires. It had been enough to convince me that Lurk and I had developed our own strange version of companionship, two outcasts trying to find their way through the maze of life.

I knew that would soon make me the only one she had left in this perpetually dying world. Everyone else had, and would, perish. Her mentor, her friends — I glanced down at the object I now held wrapped in my pale fingers — and her lover.

I returned my gaze to the woman before me — surprised to find her approaching, her strong arms wrapping around my tall frame. I realised then that I'd outgrown her. My heart stuttered at the sudden act of affection, the feeling of her warmth pressed against me — enveloping me — more comforting than I would have expected it to be.

Like the caring embrace of a mother — before her cold, dead skin would hit the dirt.

She rested her face on my shoulder, her cheek moulding into the curve of ligaments that connected it to my neck. I could hear and feel her take a deep breath, followed by a low chuckle.

"Even expensive soaps can't scrub away the smell of you." She sounded amused at the discovery, and I could feel her smile through my clothes.

I wondered briefly what my scent might be like, but I didn't attempt to ask her.

She gave my body a final squeeze before letting go, her face turning to look into mine as she took a step back, a sad smile decorating her features — softening them. "Take care of yourself, kid." Her hand ruffled my hair in a final gesture of fondness and I didn't move to correct her, answering her with a subtle smile of my own, in thanks for all she had done. Because no matter how infuriating she could be, she'd helped end my banishment — and for that, I would be forever grateful.

She turned away from me, lifting the suitcases onto a nearby serving cart before securely wrapping her fingers around the steel handle. She sent me one final look of goodbye before pushing, bringing the cart into motion. Soon the door closed behind her, but not before she could throw a final warning my way.

"Don't get her pregnant!"

* * *

They were gone.

I had watched the ship as it set sail earlier, the vessel leaving port whilst I had hidden within the deceptive safety of my room. I'd been able to pick out the small dot that was the Empress, her thin arms frantically waving her father goodbye — leaving a frown on my face. My mood had soured and I didn't fully understand why. I remained by my window for some time, my body unable to move just yet, even after the Empress had gone away — the pier looking lonely without her there.

I was brought back to my current reality, flinching when Sokolov pushed a sharp needle through the pliable layers of my skin — the shiny object sliding into my vein smoothly, filling my blood with more of the clear liquid. He mumbled beneath his breath as he moved to add more of the dark tinted mixture he'd created, the drops hissing as they met the clear solution. I felt the familiar jolt as soon as it entered my bloodstream, my surrounding veins glowing white and snippets of life passing before my eyes. It was overwhelming — almost. I clenched my teeth as I waited for the onslaught of information to calm, the walls of the tower flickering in and out of view as the skies beyond rapidly changed colours.

I was left gasping for air and Sokolov watched me with a grim look. Sweat covered my pale torso, my chest heaving as I tried to calm my racing heart. I could hear time tick on, and it felt like an eternity before I finally recovered.

"I further concentrated the dosage," Sokolov muttered, explaining my strong reaction, a bony hand stroking his matted beard. "You'll feel this one too." He added another drop and the process repeated itself, stealing the air from my lungs once more. Around me, shadows flickered — swinging corpses and wet blades.

Sokolov seemed tense, his hands trembling more than usual. "I think that'll be enough for now. We'll repeat the process tomorrow, give your system some time to adjust."

"No." My voice was hoarse, my body shivering from the stress it had been forced to endure. "Throw it all in."

"Absolutely not, that would be incredibly dangerous!" Sokolov sputtered, his blue eyes widening at the request.

But I had no time for such nonsense — I forcibly grabbed his frail hand and pulled it back towards the sack of clear liquid, adding the entirety of the small vial in one controlled sweep.

"No!" Sokolov exclaimed, but it was too late.

Light burst behind my eyes, the magical substance leaking into my blood — I saw a million pathways twist before me, all possible futures. Everything consisted of a jumbled mess, frying my mind. I felt the impact of the endless stream of visions, as well as the cold concrete floor below.It was a small taste of what I'd had in the Void — a connection to all things, a rush of exquisite and bone-shattering knowledge — and my skin thrilled at the sensation even as the high of it burned through me with an ecstatic and terrifying fervour, devouring every piece of me.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

When I awoke I had no idea what time it was, or how long I'd been out. The dancing shadows told me I was still down in the basement, hard wood digging into my flesh suggesting I'd been lifted onto one of the worktables. Cold hands wrapped around my face, turning it side to side for inspection. I felt my eyes flutter open, the world slowly coming back into focus.

I felt sick, my insides burning with an electrical fire — steaming.

"Easy there," Sokolov's rough voice ushered.

I grimaced as I attempted to sit up, a splitting headache forcing me back down. Sokolov's hands helped bear my weight, supporting my back with what little strength they possessed. Familiar flashes swam before my eyes, brighter than they'd ever been. The tower buzzed with sounds of life, and I could hear every tiny detail. Rats in the pipes, scurrying.

It was time.

"I have to go." The pitch of my voice was distorted, torn between times and places.

"You really shouldn't be moving, what you just did could have easily killed you-" Sokolov protested, his tense hands still supporting my weight — his chest quivering as he fought to suppress several coughs.

I glanced at the elderly physician, his face surrounded by a soft glow cast by my blurred vision. "I have to go."

I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with cold air, feeling the chill enter my system as I tried to control the roaring tempest inside of me. Calm. I willed the burning mass at my center to cool and settle. After a few more controlled breaths my heart slowed, and the surrounding noise ebbed to a more bearable volume.

I attempted to rise again, pushing myself into a sitting position. Sokolov continued to grouse about my poor decision making, but I didn't want to make the situation any more difficult than it had to be — so I had to go. He would understand with time. My eyes searched the table for my clothes, my vision still fogged by flashes and static. When I found them, my hands were quick to search the pockets — pulling out a worn piece of paper.

"What's the meaning of all this?" Sokolov stammered, a perplexed look on his face.

I turned to him, grabbing his hand and pushing the piece of paper against the inside of his palm, my brows furrowing as I tried to convey the importance of the small scrap. "I need a favour."

Sokolov's eyes flew from my face, to the paper now resting in his opened hand, and back to my face again. His pink tongue darted out to wet his lips, watching me with a look of complete stupor. Then, hesitantly, he nodded.

I answered with a nod of my own, sliding off of the table with some effort. My bare feet hit the floor, and the impact sent flashes of white through my veins. I glanced at Sokolov who'd unfolded the paper I'd given him, revealing a carefully sketched portrait. His face turned back to me, mouth opening to form a question. I cut him off, shaking my head. I couldn't tell him what it meant right now, but he was a smart man, he'd figure it out before long.

I hastily shrugged on my shirt, not bothering to grab my boots or jacket. I padded out of the room without looking back, feeling Sokolov's eyes trail after my moving form. The tower felt lonely for the first time since I'd arrived, the hallways deserted and hollow — like empty rib cages. The whales still sung their never-ending song, beyond the high walls that confined me, and that observation brought me some comfort, at least.

I could hear the whispers of rats all around me, their tiny feet scampering through the pipes beneath. Billie's gift sat safely tucked inside my shirt. My bare feet were light, making little noise — as if I wasn't really there. Perhaps I wasn't. Perhaps I hadn't been anywhere for centuries.

Up the stairs, cold stones.

The walls decorated, grand and lavish — what a sight to behold, some might remark. Empty corridors and lingering traces of hushed whispers — the guards had left their posts. She'd be there. How would that have made me feel? How should that make me feel?

Almost, getting closer.

My heart pounded in my ears, and my lungs greedily begged me for more air, more — more. I felt like running. Strong currents of energy coursed through my veins, vibrated through my bones and tendons. If I lost control, would I explode in a million pieces? Would the energy burst out and take my body apart, like the Void tearing its hungry way into reality?

Who was I?

I entered the room without knocking, surprising the occupants with my bold entry. The Empress's eyes were the first to find me.

"Well, what a convenient surprise." Overseer Marcus stood in front of the throne where she was seated, his gloved hands clasped around a document behind his back, and his pale mask gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.

The Empress sent me a horrified look, hands grasping the edges of her seat. Wyman was there too, lurking behind her as if they'd been about to leave.

"Mel, what are you doing here?" The Empress questioned warily, an underlying current of fear in her sharply controlled tone.

I didn't reply, my gaze trained on the Overseer who studied me in return. His features were hidden, but I'd witnessed enough of him to know what lay beneath the angry carvings of his mask.

"I think I can help you with that, my dear Empress." The Overseer's tone was sickeningly sweet and caused my gut to twist in alarm — my instincts were warning me of what my mind already knew. His gloved hands moved to unroll the document he held behind his back, his body turned to address both me and the Empress.

Boots drummed in the distance. More.

"It has been brought to the Abbey's attention, by unnamed sources, that as of the 9th day of the Month of Wind, 1852, Emily Kaldwin has been harboring criminal entities in Dunwall Tower and engaging in blasphemous and or hedonistic activities: among them giving aid and comfort to enemies of the Empire, amounting to treason," he read.

"That is untrue!" Wyman sputtered at the accusations, but the Overseer threw up a hand to silence them.

"It is therefore that the Abbey is forced to utilise all its power to neutralise the threat posed to the well-being of the Empire."

My eyes were drawn to the Empress and I found that she'd been watching me with an unreadable expression.

"On this, the 18th day of the Month of Wind, 1852, Artair Kinley, High Overseer of the Abbey of the Everyman, hereby declares Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, Empress of the Isles, under arrest for suspected crimes against the Empire: housing, protecting, and giving aid and comfort to an Enemy of the Isles-"

Boots halted outside the doors.

"-and falling victim to the Wanton Flesh, participating in heretical acts of adultery with none other than _the Outsider himself_."

I remained as indifferent as I'd been before the Overseer had proclaimed our guilt. What would my feelings change? They hadn't changed anything before, I knew. I glanced at Wyman who held my gaze with a stunned look of pure horror, and I knew the dots were finally connecting in their mind — the memory of magic against their skin.

"Impossible," they sputtered.

The Empress raised her chin at the Overseer in an attempt to mask her fear, but I'd noticed how her knuckles had gone white — and the Overseer would too. "Proof being?"

Overseer Marcus chuckled darkly, his shoulders shaking with the sound. The doors swung open, and in burst a large group of Overseers, all geared up with a familiar device. The music started playing, and I knew it was over. I could feel it taking effect as the veins in my fingers, hands and arms progressively turned black — the sickening color consuming my limbs and spreading rapidly. My joints stiffened, and a silky wetness started to run down my neck as I felt myself start to choke.

"It is him! It's the Outsider!" one of the Overseers yelled.

My knees buckled, and my hands shot up to my throat — blood spurting out between my trembling fingers.

"Men! Subdue them!"

I felt the familiar burn of an ancient scream as it ripped through my throat, the sound completely drowned out by the orchestra of whales. Their deprived voices howled and belted in agony, the ground shaking with their efforts.

"Empress Emily Kaldwin, you are under arrest for high treason and heresy!"

The Overseers paused their music as they flooded the throne room, moving to restrain me and the Empress, her voice a high screech — sharp, like clawing nails — as she attempted to fight off the members of the Abbey.

"Mel! Run!" she shouted.

It wouldn't work. I knew it wouldn't work. Nothing would have worked.

Wyman pleaded with the Overseers, denying their lover's sins, denying her knowledge of my identity.

She'd been damned to this fate the moment her hand had rested upon my arm — the moment she'd decided to rescue me — the moment the cold blade had broken through her mother's skin and she'd been taken away by assassins — the moment a cold blade had slit my throat and drawn my blood.

"Mel — _fight!_ " The screech echoed through my mind from far too far away, behind doors that had been locked by a cruel destiny aeons ago.

All had been written in blood.

I felt the cold rubbery texture of gloves as the Overseers grabbed me, several men pushing down on me to keep me restrained — but I wasn't resisting. They pushed my face to the cold floors, and twisted my arms behind my back, cuffing them — tying them. I could see her from where I lay bent and bleeding. She attempted to push off the Overseers, denying her guilt. But she possessed no more magic, and killing them would do more harm than good. And if there was one thing I'd learned in my long, long existence, it's that you cannot fight the ropes that bind you.

You cannot escape. I had never been able to escape.

Wyman was weeping as they watched their lover take blow after blow, the Empress not prone to giving up. This was yet another betrayal, another grab for power. Humanity hungered, and this was their feast.

"Please, this must be a misunderstanding! She'd never-" Wyman begged.

The Overseers pulled on my arms as they dragged me to my feet and I felt myself stumble — weakened to the bones. Now that the music had stopped, the gaping wound that had sliced through my throat was gone as well, the black discolouration progressively draining from my veins. I could breathe, but the air still passed right through me. I fell to the ground several times before they managed to hoist me up successfully.

"These shackles vibrate at the same frequency as the heretical music. Magic will do you no good." I recognised the voice of Overseer Darren as he whispered into my ear with a giddiness that made me sick.

I fought to lift my head, to see the Empress also subdued and cuffed, several Overseers flanking her trembling form.

Wyman was still pleading, begging for the Overseers to see reason.

"Men, take them!" Overseer Marcus roared, his gloved hand shoving the Empress forward.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." The Empress's words were empty, desperate reassurances meant to pacify her lover, the wide-eyed Morley noble watching on in desperation as their Empress was taken away. Their eyes shot to me, utter disbelief swirling in their depths. I bowed my head as the Overseers pushed me forward, my bare feet sticky with my own blood.

I deserved this, did I not?

* * *

The brightness of the sun burned my eyes as the Overseers pushed me through the entrance of the tower, more of their kind awaiting us outside. They flocked the grounds, and I had to appreciate the precautions taken — they truly feared me. The Empress followed behind me, her usually perfect appearance disheveled, showing the aftermath of her struggle — her dark hair falling loose, strands obscuring her glistening face, forehead pebbled with the sweat of exertion.

They led us around the structure, the high walls shielding us from the harsh scrutiny of the ever-burning skies — our forms temporarily cast in shadow. Still no guards. The Abbey had been swift in their dealings, securing their plea by taking complete control. The whales howled beyond, their mournful sounds clearly audible at last. The gates loomed before us, opening up to reveal a vast mob that had been attracted by the incoming flood of Overseers. I could hear them whisper amongst each other, wondering what was going on, wondering if that was Empress Emily Kaldwin who walked behind the strange young man with bare feet.

I cast my gaze downwards at the rough stones we traversed. They felt cold beneath my feet and I found solace in the discomfort. Blood stained my shirt and pants, remnants of my ancient wound reopened by the magical notes of music. The murmurs along the crowd grew ever-louder as we continued to approach, wilfully marching on.

"The Royal Protector won't tolerate this," the Empress spat at the men who held her. "He'll make sure consequences are enacted."

The men of the Abbey didn't bother to reply, their anonymity awarding them a superficial sense of safety. We halted, and I kept my gaze trained on the ground — refusing to look into the scrutinising crowd. A sudden pull propelled me forward, towards the figure of Overseer Marcus who stood with arms raised — silencing the masses.

"People of Dunwall!" he started, his voice bouncing off the surrounding brick-buildings. "This is the Outsider!" The crowd's whispers grew louder — shocked questions echoing at the mention of my title, swiftly silenced by Overseer Marcus' gesturing hands. "And he has cursed us! He has taken our power away! And he has come to gloat!" A ripple of rage erupted from the people, some shouting profanities, others questioning the legitimacy of the claims.

The Overseers responded by playing the music, turning my veins black and cutting through the skin of my throat, blood pouring from the tear. Another uncontrolled scream bubbled from my chest, an echo from a time long gone, and the whales cried louder in response. My knees gave out and the Overseers caught my falling form, dragging me back up to face the now furious mass in front of me. My eyes rolled back, into my skull, black shadows consuming my wavering vision. The music halted and I gasped for air, for life.

"It's the Outsider!" a man shouted, sounds of shock traveling through the crowd.

"Void have mercy on us," another whimpered.

Overseer Marcus quieted the people once more, his gloved hands beckoning for silence. The firm hands that had been holding me upright released me, my weakened body crashing down onto the stones beneath — a rough voice urging me to get back up.

Marcus spoke, his tone authoritative. "And now — in times of darkness — the Outsider has corrupted the very head of our precious Empire!"

I saw several shadows pass me as I struggled to crawl back to a stand, my elbows pushing against the stones in a battle of balance. I heard the crowd gasp yet again and my eyes shot up to witness the Empress, her proud form brought into full view.

"Our precious Empress, Emily Kaldwin, has fallen victim to heresy!"

The crowd grew divided, some shouting out in rage whilst others lamented the corruption of their dear Empress.

"She has harboured affections towards the Outsider! She has committed high treason against the Isles!" Overseer Marcus continued.

More angry shouts erupted from the people, to which several of the Overseers nodded in agreement.

"Therefore," Overseer Marcus paused, glancing at the Empress who stood defiantly, her head held high and her features contorted into a deadly glare, "she shall be punished accordingly!"

People started to chime in, some urging the adulteress to face proper retribution, a few begging for a more measured approach. Overseer Marcus retrieved the same document he'd held in the throne room, unrolling it and clearing his throat before speaking.

"It has been decreed by the Abbey, that Empress Emily Kaldwin and the Outsider are to be sentenced for their heinous crimes against the Empire..."

I finally managed to get back on my feet, my knees weak and unbalanced. My eyes were drawn to the people before us, the angry mob that cursed me for everything I had allegedly caused them. For all the misfortunes and sorrows I'd personally bestowed them. For all I'd taken from them, ruining their lives with my pestilence.

"In accordance to their crimes, showing no penitence for blasphemy and heresy, the accused have been sentenced to execution on the 4th day of the month of Darkness, that they might hang by the neck until dead!"

The crowd erupted into an angry chorus, the noise deafening to my sensitive ears. I stumbled forward, towards the Empress, one of my hands clutching my throat as if to close off the wound that had already disappeared with the passing of the music.

I was surprised when the Empress's small hand grabbed onto mine and raised it into the air in one swift motion, the shackles that bound my wrists together tugging painfully. My eyes shot towards her face, only to find her fiercely staring into the mass of people.

She was about to speak when the surrounding Overseers quickly pulled at her, stopped her, halting the words from entering the world. She used the last remainder of her strength to fight them off as they concentrated their efforts into shutting her up. I watched her in silence, stupefied at her will to continue fighting, to not give up on herself or me. Did she really believe her words could change anything? That people would suddenly turn around to support me? If anything, she was making herself look worse.

Overseer Marcus quickly stepped in, tearing my hand away from the Empress's and earning an approving roar from the mob of citizens. "Members of the Abbey," he called, his fingers digging into my arm, "take these heretics, and walk them to the Office of the High Overseer!"

"You can't do this!" The Empress cut in, breaking free from her assailants. "Law states it is custom for prisoners to be sent to Coldridge and await their trial — _not_ the Office of the High Overseer." She sneered disapprovingly, jutting her sharp jaw.

Overseer Marcus rounded in on her with deathly precision, his gloved hand shooting up to grab ahold of her face, forcibly dragging her towards him in an assertion of dominance. "Heretics of your kind have lost their right to a trial," he breathed darkly, turning to glance at me. "Only the Abbey can judge your sins."

I didn't react to the man's words. If anything, I remained as stoic as ever. I would not give them the pleasure of my anger, or any other emotion. If I couldn't control anything else then I might as well control that.

Overseer Marcus merely huffed, promptly turning to his fellow members of the Abbey. "Penance starts now!"

They responded by setting off into the crowd, creating a clear path meant for me and the Empress to walk. Their masked bodies formed a protective line that shielded us from the crowd beyond, flanking our path. It took some forceful prodding and kicking for the Empress to actually start moving, the strong-willed woman refusing to give in so easily. Rough hands pushed into my back, my feet stumbling across the jagged rocks, cutting into my skin and marking my path red.

I listlessly shuffled on, eyes trained on the cobblestone roads that followed. The members of the Abbey continuously secured our way, containing the crowds of people — eager to get a good look at the so-called Outsider himself. I could hear scoffs of disappointment, as well as berating reprimands directed at children — telling them to cover their eyes, else they might become corrupted by my mere presence. Most were angry — furious even. How dare I take their power, their safety and their comfort, away?

"... is that him..."

"... rat faced mutt..."

"... would have loved me some piece of her too..."

"... just a kid..."

"... shoo, Mathilde, don't look..."

"... I can't believe it..."

"... lost all I had because of him..."

"... think he'll kill us..."

We progressed at an agonising pace — each step felt tediously drawn out. The noises around me grew increasingly louder, the angry sounds of the people rising like floodwater. My shackled hands rose of their own accord, attempting to cover my sensitive ears from the racket. I flinched each time someone broke through the protective lines of Overseers. Most of them attempted to get a closer look, whereas others pulled at my limbs and tested whether or not I'd disappear — somehow — before being dragged off by a member of the Abbey. Some even threw whatever it was they could get their hands on: rocks, pebbles, rats, and cans. Objects would hit me, and my veins would light up at the impact, scaring the people.

No one dared bother the Empress, danger was written all over her face. Despite the shackles that bound her, she looked every bit the proud ruler she'd been raised to be.

Suddenly another man broke through the lines, jumping at me with frantic movements. His fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt and I felt myself topple with the force, my hands torn from my ears and my elbows catching the brunt of the fall — skin glowing and splitting on the hard-edged cobbles. Spots filled my vision, my limbs sliding across the jagged street as I tried to crawl back up — the man who'd caused me to fall was already hauled off, but not without shouting a string of profanities at me. I didn't want to listen — but I could not turn away.

"... disgusting..."

"... serves 'em right..."

"... an abomination..."

"… his eyes creep me out…"

Two hands helped lift me, my head snapping towards the source — the Empress. She watched me with a solemn expression as she continued to hold onto my arm, urging me to keep on going.

"Don't-" I started, but she cut me off, brows knitting together at my protest.

"No, _you_ don't." Anger seeped through her tone, her grip just a fraction too tight. She tugged on my arm again, our gazes still locked. I caught the movement of an approaching Overseer in the corner of my eye, so I quickly limped forward — my joints still painful from the fall. The Empress remained at my side, despite the scandalised whispers that arose from the public. She didn't speak, her sharp nails digging into my skin as she held onto my arm with a vice-like grip — as if I might dissolve into smoke at any time.

"... she used to be such a good girl..."

"... it's that foreign blood of hers..."

"... can't be trusted..."

I recognised Boyle mansion when we passed it, the grand estate and the surrounding yard still as impeccable as always. Lady Esma Boyle stood at the top of the stairs that led inside, her silver hair tied in a high and tidy bun. She watched me with failing eyes, but I knew she could see me clear as day. Those close to the Void always could. I met her gaze with measured interest, her once soft, aristocratic features laid to ruin by time — like wallpaper rotting off the panels, her flesh creased and curled off her bones. The sight made my skin itch.

 _Granny, Granny Granny, come out with me instead. Granny, Granny Granny, you can't because you're dead._

The shackles would have contained my magic — if I'd been able to perform any in the first place. Now they only served to further force it inwards. I felt my wounds start to close, the high dosage of concentrated whale oil still pumping through my system, unaffected. And for a moment I wondered how Sokolov was doing. Would he have heard already? Or would he be working still, down in the dark basement — a familiar portrait protruding from his pocket.

Kaldwin's Bridge loomed ahead, and the irony of crossing said structure with the Empress in shackles was not lost on me. The waves danced beneath, obscuring the large whales within their depths. The bridge trembled with their efforts and I noticed the tense Overseers all around us. They grabbed onto me halfway across, separating me and the Empress. It took me a moment to realise why, until I noticed the tell-tale spurts of moisture that shot up all around us.

The waters roared as hundreds of whales broke through the surface, blowing high enough to cast a continuous stream of rain on our passing forms — drenching us. Their voices were deafening, and I had to squint my eyes to get a good look at them, their massive bodies flocked together throughout the Wrenhaven river. The Overseers feared them, the strong scent of it all around me — their grip on my arms tightened.

"This is black magic," one of the Overseers remarked nervously, his masked gaze drawn to the endless herd of maritime creatures.

They were much louder above the surface, their song on constant repeat. For the first time I'd heard them, I recognised their words; it was my name that danced off their tongues as would an ancient lullaby. It was the same song they'd always sung to me, back in the Void even, but now — as I walked with my hands and fate bound — I was able to understand.

I glanced at the Empress beside me, her face set with fury, her amber eyes ablaze. Daud's words had revealed nothing to me; I hadn't grasped the meaning, hadn't heard the language he'd used. My name had been like an itch I couldn't scratch. But the more I thought about it, the more prominent the memory of my fervorous dreams became. I had floated in that amber sea, the Void momentarily washed from my skin and mind.

There, in the pull of waves and unbidden sentiments, she'd whispered it.

And somewhere along the way, I was sure she'd re-attached what had been cut apart all those years ago. I looked back at the whales, the setting sun bounced off their glistening backs, their eyes all watching me. If I peered hard enough, I could see myself reflected in their gaze.

"I hate those whales," an Overseer nearby muttered, briefly lifting his mask to spit at the ground. "Harpoon 'em all, I say."

Sunlight continued to hit the falling waters, broken into a vast array of colours — casting the reddening skies in a liquid aurora.

"They reek," another Overseer added from nearby, sounding disgusted.

The whales had managed to garner the attention of the people, a curious crowd already forming at the other side of Kaldwin's Bridge. They were surprised to see their Empress in shackles, but they were even more surprised once an Overseer took the time to answer their questions. Hushed whispers tickled my ears, questions whether it could all be true — whether I was really the Outsider.

The people were calmer here, uninfluenced by Marcus' speech. Instead they wondered and watched, mostly worried about the copious amount of blood that had soaked into my clothes. Some tried to approach the Empress, tried to give her some support, but almost always the Overseers would cut off any who attempted to reach out. So they looked on as more and more people gathered, surrounding us. The whales grew distant, the streets trembling less and less the farther we moved away. Soon they faded into nothing, our wet clothes and skin the only proof of their efforts.

My limp only grew worse with time, until I couldn't walk without someone there to support me. Of course that someone was the Empress, who seemed peeved at my physical weakness. I soon closed my eyes, too tired to bear any more familiar faces. I knew most of these people and I also knew most of their stories. Funny thing was, none of them knew mine. I could feel the day pass on my skin, the air cooling as the burning sun lowered evermore. It would be night soon, an observable testament to how far we'd walked.

I was grateful no one attempted to throw anything anymore; my body still ached from the past battering of objects. I knew we'd reached Holger Square when the Empress released me. I opened my eyes and found the world cast in darkness, illuminated only by torches and a sliver of moonlight. The Overseers led us inside, the hallways dancing in firelight, ominous shadows moving up and down the walls. The limited lighting made the ceilings appear almost non-existent, as if the walls stretched on forever — into nothing, into Void. They walked us through the entrance hall and up the stairs. Overseer Marcus led our strange parade and Darren brought up the rear, their sinister presence somehow cooling the atmosphere.

When we entered a long hallway, I noticed a group of women further down — the Sisters of the Oracular Order. They stood in front of a door I knew belonged to the interrogation room. I glanced at the Empress who'd spotted them as well, her straight shoulders subtly tensing up. My feet stuck to the carpet, dirtied with blood and grit. New scars, I knew.

I recognised Sister Rosewyn who opened the door for us, and I noted the wood of the door had been replaced by steel. When I entered the room I realised the door wasn't the only thing the Abbey had fortified, the walls now reinforced by strong beams of steel, too. The familiar chair still stood at its center and other furniture had been added as well, most pieces shoved against the back wall. The room was still sectioned into two pieces, iron bars seperating a small part at the back that could be entered through another reinforced door. Again, I was impressed by their precautions.

"Unshackle and undress them," Rosewyn barked. "Play the music, Sister Yadav."

A young girl nodded at Sister Rosewyn, handling a small replica of the music boxes.

"Careful now, Sister, I hear too much might kill," her superior added.

A number of Overseers and Sisters encircled us, making quick work of the shackles. My attention was drawn to the barred glass that loomed above, revealing another dark figure hidden in the shadows — the newest High Overseer. He looked on as his men started to undress me, like the Sisters did the Empress. They took my shirt first, the weight of Lurk's talisman lifted off me. I couldn't contain the shivers that rippled through me as soon as my wet skin was laid bare, wrapping my arms around my torso in an attempt to hold onto what warmth I had left.

"Get your hands off of me!" The Empress bristled beside me — but the Sisters that undressed her paid no mind to her complaints. All the while the soft notes of music played, gentler this time. My throat itched but didn't open, and for that I was somewhat grateful. "You can't do this, you can't!" Her words ricocheted off the walls, ripping through my ears painfully. She refused to give in, forcing the Sisters to tear the clothes from her body.

When would she learn? The harder she fought the more she'd hurt herself — her efforts only served to deepen the cuts dealt to her. It was senseless.

We stood, naked and shivering, as our captors moved us to a wall. The subtle flicker of candlelight cast shadows that afforded us at least some sense of modesty. Sister Rosewyn walked up to us, her authoritative features set in a satisfied smirk, her hands carrying the hose that hung suspended from the ceiling. She turned it on and we were pelted by ice-cold water, washing the dirt and blood from our bodies. I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, my arms still wrapped around myself defensively. I could hear the Empress curse at the woman, but I didn't see her face — my eyes mindfully avoiding her. I could imagine her humiliation, her royal status swiftly washed away by the icy stream. Drops clung to my skin and dripped from my hair, pinching me with their cold.

Like earlier, the discomfort brought me solace. It was familiar. It was all the humanity I'd experienced, all I remembered.

I grew increasingly weak, the long walk and hard falls taking their toll. The world spun and soon, wholly out of my control, my skull connected with the floor, a sickening crunch audible. There was nothing left in me, and I felt myself lose the fight with consciousness. I could still hear their conspiring voices as my world gradually faded to black. Gloved hands picked me up and dried me, dressing me like a child would a rag doll. I floated in darkness, semi-conscious. And it wasn't until what could only be hours later that I felt myself begin to stir, my body uncomfortably resting on an old, hard mattress.

My eyes fluttered open, the world slowly taking shape. A single candle still lit the room and illuminated the Empress where she sat on her own cot, a few feet from mine, legs folded against her chest and chin resting atop her knees. Her hair was loose and she wore poorly fitted clothes — a simple shirt, loose pants — in a muted grey-on-grey.

"You knew." Her voice was but a broken whisper.

I tried to sit up, but my body felt too heavy and my head felt as if it'd been cracked open. I was weak. Gravity weighed heavily on my fatigued muscles, made heavier after a week of strenuous physical struggles.

"You knew," she repeated, louder this time.

My hands twisted into the ratty blanket, trying to find some support. I felt sick, my stomach lurching dangerously. I drew my legs up, towards my chest.

"You knew!" The Empress shouted this time, and I pointed my gaze towards her shaking form, her head raised, eyes shooting daggers at me. My arms worked to push me up, my knees turning in toward the mattress. I lifted myself, slowly, my stomach protesting the movements. I fought to swallow the bile that burned my throat, my hand shooting up to cover my mouth.

"Look at you," she said bitterly. "Pathetic."

I clenched my teeth as I dragged myself against a neighbouring wall, using it to support my weight, the muscles in my jaw burning with the force. I momentarily glanced down at my hands and did a double take when I noticed my bare fingers. They'd taken my ritual rings, and I frowned at the discovery.

"People are right about you," the Empress continued her bitter tirade, "you are evil."

I snorted at that, followed by a string of coughs. My hand shot back up to my mouth, as if to try and force the choking gasps back in.

"You think that's funny?" She lowered her legs, fully turning her body towards me. "You enjoy sending people off to the gallows, seeing them killed?"

I rolled my eyes as I spoke in between coughs. "You're not dead."

"I'm going to be — all because you refused to help — you damned us both!"

"Don't be naive."

"Excuse me? This all could have been prevented! My father could have stayed — instead you bit your tongue and fucked us all!" She was becoming increasingly irate, her eyes wide and unfocused. "My father knew! He told me not to trust you, told me you were dangerous... I didn't listen and now look where I am!"

"Then tell me: what would you have done?" I countered, my voice cold and detached. "What could you have possibly done, exactly?" I leaned forward, closing some of the space between us, my voice dropping to a deep whisper. "Run away? Fight them? Kill the Abbey in its entirety to avoid retribution?"

"You're really sick, you know that? Fooling me like that, pretending to be some lost little boy, drawing me nice portraits! They're right — the Abbey was right all along! You're evil and twisted, but worst of all you're an absolute coward. I never should have thought otherwise, you were right: I was naive. I was a fool to think you possessed even a fraction of humanity. You disgust me! _I_ disgust me."

I stood from the mattress, ice running through my veins — no, her words didn't hurt me. No one could. I held her gaze as I looked down on her, and I noticed how the walls danced and tumbled all around us, like water. "Get out of your little heroic bubble for once and see the world for what it is; there wasn't a single possibility that could have saved you from scrutiny. You could have offered them my head on a platter, and they would still smear your name because that was their intent — and intent matters." I bit out.

Had they been right all along?

The Empress jumped up to meet my challenge head on, rage contorting her features into an ugly mask. "We could have tried!" Her angry glare was starting to fill with tears and her voice cracked in testament to all her pent up emotions. "The least we could do was try. I could have fled, could have kept _some_ of my dignity intact!" She flung her arms in anger, nearly hitting me. Everything I said seemed to further fuel her volatile state.

Was I a coward?

I lowered my face to hers, my gaze boring into her amber stare. "There's always a price to pay," I said through gritted teeth, further narrowing my eyes at the woman. She was close now, her breath mingling with mine and my face faintly reflected in her burning gaze.

She cocked her head, her angular jaw flexing as her dark eyebrows, divided by angry creases, pulled further together. "I hate you."

What good person didn't? It was easy, being hated. It made the world — the people — predictable. I didn't care whether she hated me or not. It wouldn't change anything. I didn't care. I never cared. Never. Caring was for people. I wasn't a person — I was the empty shell of a person filled only with Void and blame. The sooner she would learn that, the better. She'd been a fool for believing otherwise — for tricking me into believing the same, briefly.

The Empress surprised me when she pushed me back, her hands hitting my chest with enough force to make me stumble.

"Fight me!" she seethed, parts of her hair obscuring her tortured features. "Fight me, you coward!"

I was pushed further back, my calves hitting the cot I'd previously occupied. I didn't move, didn't stop the blows from coming. Her eyes darted across my face, like bloodflies — frantic and glowing. _My fault._

"Why don't you fight back?" Frustration further contaminated her tone, her anger spiking at my unwillingness to respond. Her fists continued their assault on my chest, battering my ribs with blows that sent painful shockwaves through my body. The light cast by the single candle illuminated the bars that separated our cell from the rest of the room, casting long, thin shadows — like slender fingers, curling around everything. Another blow, and I felt myself lose my balance, falling back and landing on top of the thin mattress. The Empress followed, fingers clutching my shirt and a knee planted on each side of my hips. My torso hung trapped in her hands, the clothing I'd been given wrapped painfully around my skin.

She was panting, her nostrils flaring with the effort. I didn't break eye contact, schooling my features to be as unreadable as ever — hiding just how uncomfortable I was starting to feel. We stared at each other like that, suspended in time — almost. My body hurt for a thousand reasons, the Empress now being one of them. I could feel her grip on my shirt tighten, the fabric close to tearing.

"You think I'm good?" She hurled the words I'd spoken the previous night back at me, her hands further wrenching at my shirt, shaking me. "Good enough for you to manipulate and ruin, you deranged piece of shit!" She was hurting me. Her hands released me and I dropped fully onto the mattress, her fingers quickly wrapped around my throat — around the place where my life had spilled from me. They squeezed my vulnerable flesh, trapping me. Panic surged through me, flashes of memories, other hands that had lain there — hands much like mine. Blackened nails.

"No-" I whimpered briefly, fighting the waves that tried to break me, tried to tear down the dams of my mind. I wouldn't — I wouldn't. The Empress increased the pressure, her nails digging into my skin.

"Fight me!" The force of her growl sent me reeling, the world shattering all around me.

"Emily…" I breathed weakly, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

Her lip quivered, silent curses burning in her glistening eyes. Because of me. Her hands suddenly lost their grip on me, the places where her nails had been now marked by blood.

"Why?" she asked, and in that moment she sounded nothing like an Empress, but like a young girl torn from her mother. I had to wonder what she meant, exactly. Why what? Why didn't I fight back? Why hadn't I told her, or her father? Why had it all happened in the first place? But it seemed she didn't require an answer, her question more closely resembled an accusation: why was I like this?

I turned my head in shame, my eyes focusing on the iron bars instead — I couldn't stand the way she looked at me. Right now, all I wanted was to disappear — but I felt more trapped now than I ever had in the Void.

Why?

I'd asked myself that more times than I could possibly count. 'Why' had been the bane of my entire existence, the burning question that had fuelled me, driven me — challenged me. I'd tested the question, first on my tongue, then on the world. Why? The more I questioned, the darker the answers became. It had driven me across lines I should not have crossed, things I should not have done. People, like pieces on a chessboard. All to ask: why?

All to try and understand: why me?

When it became evident to the Empress that I would not respond, she appeared to deflate some — her anger cooling and making way for mournful sadness instead. The dip caused by her weight disappeared once she stepped off, fingers releasing their hold entirely. I heard her settle down on her own cot, the room feeling hollow now that the brunt of her anger had dissipated. The remnants of her turmoil clung to me like a second skin — incapable of ridding myself of their presence.

I turned my back to her, facing the dark wall instead. I was tired. Exhausted, even. Yet sleep would not come to me, the scorn I'd faced effective at chasing it away. The darkness was suffocating in its quietude. No sound penetrated the thick walls we inhabited, no more music.

For once, _all was silent_.


	8. Game

_"No, no — no. That just won't do. More. We need more. Go to the chapel, beg there. The religious ones often have more of a heart to spare. Go now. Mind the cold, don't lose your toes. Bring me a flower if you could, would you? You know how I like those — the pretty ones. Yes... I love you."_

* * *

Cold, ice in my bones. Bare feet, all my toes — still there, all accounted for. Scars, some I remembered, others I didn't. Blood, rhythmic blood: traveling, streaming, through me. Days of endless darkness. No more sunlight. Get warm by the fire, but mind the flames.

Silence.

The creak of iron doors followed by careful steps. A gust of wind lapping at my toes. My toes — still there, all accounted for. Voices... all these voices. Talking, but about what? What are they saying? Strange tongues. A conversation between two girls — women.

"Oh, Empress." Apologetic. "I'm truly sorry for your situation — I don't understand why they insisted to keep you with... with that-" Accusatory

"I'm not an Empress anymore, am I?" A sneer, bitterness dripping from the words

A wall, old and worn. Witness to many horrors, but no innocent bystander; a silent enabler, more like — not unlike me.

"You'll always be my Empress, Your Majesty." Hesitation. "Someone of your stature should not be kept with such a monster... the things he's done to women..." A shudder in her tone. "...How many bastards he's fathered..."

"Psh! He's a virgin." A foot connected to my back, hitting my spine. " _Mel_ ," the name was spat at me in mockery, "did you hear what she just said? You going to take that, like the coward you are?"

I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to relieve the pain that now stung my back. Iron bars and flickering candles — words of hurt and fingers like blades.

"Empress, please, think of your safety," our visitor protested.

"Sister Yadav..." I listlessly muttered into my pillow, tired, "...How many more mouths to feed? Mother is exhausted, father away. Little sisters, with hair black and long, starving. To the Oracular, father says, away with you. One mouth less."

Another kick sent a shockwave of pain through my nerves. "That's all you've got, isn't it? Words. All you ever do is talk!"

"Empress, please! He could hurt you!" Sister Yadav cautioned.

"If only!" the Empress growled at my back. "Instead he just lays there, pretending to be innocent!"

"We all pretend, if only to cleanse us of ourselves," I croaked sardonically.

Hands grabbed me and forced me to face the two women behind me, the Empress's angry face appearing above. She looked tired, too; dark circles framed her eyes and her usually tan skin was pallid.

"You kept me up all night," she spat. "Pretending to have nightmares."

I blinked up at her in silence. I didn't recall falling asleep, and I also didn't I recall any nightmares.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Your Majesty." Sister Yadav was still there. I glanced at her, her dark skin sharply contrasted against her white uniform. She wore the blindfold typically associated with the Sisters of the Oracular Order around her face, covering her eyes — but I could feel her gaze on me, still. Was that not magic in and of itself? "You should eat... I have brought breakfast. My Sisters and Brothers will come for your daily cleansing soon. Then you'll be visited by the High Overseer himself,"

The Empress moved out of my sight, followed by a clatter of plates. "I'm eating your food, Mel. You can fight me over it."

 _No... no, no, no! All gone. Bruised skin and shoes taken, again. Again, again. Nothing to eat._

I sat up painfully, a set of loud cracks and pops traveling down my spine. I was dizzy, my eyes finding it unusually hard to focus. I glanced at the barred windows above, where the ominous figure of the High Overseer still loomed, before remorsefully turning around, to where the Empress now sat on her cot — her face pulled into a bitter scowl.

We were being observed, but for what purpose? Sister Yadav had raised some legitimate concerns; I could have hurt the Empress, and she could have hurt me. They had purposefully framed us for adultery, they knew the lies they'd spread — so why take the risk of one of us not making it to our execution? The High Overseer had witnessed the Empress's temper, had seen her attack me multiple times now — what was he waiting for?

"Stop staring at me." The Empress complained, still eating my food.

Unless...

"You can't do that." I protested, frowning at the plate in her hands.

"Watch me," she said, taking another exaggerated bite.

What if...

I pulled words from the hidden corners of my mind, fragments of conversations I had gleaned once — words of hurt, exhumed only to reoffend. "' _That's just what you do, isn't it Em?_ '" I returned her scowl, her movements freezing at the familiar accusation. "' _You lash out, hurt others whenever you get hurt. All cutting words like the knives you so desperately obsess about.'_ "

"Stop that," the Empress warned, lowering her plate as her sharp gaze held mine, a dangerous warning flashing within those amber eyes.

I glanced at the door - two Overseers carrying music boxes kept watch - then at Sister Yadav, who was about to leave. "' _You'll end up alone if you keep this up,_ '" I continued stonily, "' _you force those who love you away, incapable of admitting to your own mistake-_ '"

"Stop!" She cut me off. "You can't do that."

"Watch me." I narrowed my eyes, glaring at the woman before me. I was playing with fire, I knew, intentionally heedless of the flames, and I wondered if she'd take the bait.

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open — she did. "You absolute-" She never got to finish what she was about to say, her words interrupted by the entry of more Sisters and Overseers, led by the statuesque figure of Sister Rosewyn.

"Stand." She commanded, her watchful gaze glued to us as she aligned herself before an adjacent wall, motioning for the music to be readied in case it was needed. We obeyed, although the Empress sent me one final kick that had me stumbling a few steps ahead. Yes, this was a game — one we didn't know the rules of, but were forced to play nonetheless. "Undress." Rosewyn continued her commands.

I faced the Empress as I dissidently removed my shirt, my eyes glued to hers in challenge. She held my gaze with a glare of her own, her burning eyes spitting fire at me. She too lifted her shirt, revealing the tantalising expanse of olive skin that hid beneath — skin my sinful fingers had traversed once. I didn't quite shy away from the audacious woman before me, my eyes persistently boring into hers as I untied my pants, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. I wouldn't allow for her to dominate me in this unspoken challenge we'd both initiated. She repeated the gesture, her long shapely legs stepping out of the plain article of clothing. She righted herself, her now naked form mirrored by my own. Her chest rose with each breath she took, her chin held high in defiance.

Overseers and Sisters came up to us, washing us with rough cloths. The Empress didn't curse this time, didn't protest the violations of her body. Instead she fully focused herself on me, the center of her hatred. Good; it was better that way. If that was what would get her through then I'd give her something to hate. I glowered at her, an empty gesture on my part. There was a glint in her eyes, a passing thought. The truth didn't matter. I found truth to be subjective, pliable. She'd search for signs, for breaks of character. She'd convince herself of their worth, their proof — they were her truth. It was easier. Truth was, I'd played this game for as long as I remembered.

Scrubbing, my skin burned with the force; hers would too. Her sharp shoulders bobbed as quick hands dragged a wet cloth across them, leaving behind a slippery path of shining curves and angles. Her collarbones moved with each stroke, dancing beneath her skin. I was keenly aware of the fact that I'd never seen them before, and I found myself incapable of looking away — her tan complexion sparkled with leftover droplets, like fragmented ice carried by cold winds.

 _Snow. Get inside. Get home. Once the blackness catches you it won't let you go, be careful. Get by the fire, fight the cold, fight the ink spilling beneath your skin. Count your toes. Burn more wood if needed._

She stared at me, a spark in her eyes. She was reading me still, her gaze searching every change in my expression, every written line on my body. I felt entirely too present within the dark walls and corners of the room, my pale skin painfully bright next to the dark uniforms of the men of the Abbey; I was a scream between muted whispers, a strange accent between common tongues.

Old towels drying me, rubbing away the cold. The biting cold, always the cold. Cold that burned to the bones and left your skin blistered and torn — scarred. I closed my eyes for a moment, a short moment; breathe for a bit. I was feeling strange. Old, I felt so incredibly old. I felt her eyes upon me as she studied me, my body laid bare before her critical gaze. Her stare burned a path wherever it roamed, the tempered heat of her hatred painfully tangible. My fault, always.

New clothes, stiff still, washed too many times — old blood scrubbed from the fabric. They dressed me, pulling my limbs with little care, joints popping painfully beneath my skin. I opened my eyes; she was dressed too, collarbones covered. Then they left, commanded by the sharp tones of Sister Rosewyn. In their place entered the man who'd been watching us ever since we made our arrival, his presence palpable before he so much as stepped into view. The High Overseer himself — flanked by the two men that had kept watch near the door, large music boxes strapped to their chests — approached his two prisoners.

The Empress's hatred lifted off of me, directed elsewhere — at the High Overseer; the man who'd betrayed her rule as much as I'd betrayed her trust. His walk more closely resembled a prowl, opposed to the dignified strut of Sister Rosewyn. His black mask dangled from his waist, his chiseled features exposed and decorated with a predatory smirk. His face bore scars I knew would make my cell-mate shudder with disgust, remnants of violence; the price for cruelty. He bore a strange likeness to a hound, his broad nose framed by a narrow face. He possessed the common features of those hailing from Morley; much like Wyman, he was all blonde hair and blue eyes, yet the two couldn't be more different.

"Remove his shirt, then bind him to the chair," he ordered, before regarding the Empress with a poorly forged smile. "Ah, Empress Emily Kaldwin - or should I say... former Empress." He removed his gloves, briefly inspecting his nails as if to feign disinterest. "I regret our sparse interactions, although I must say I've never been a particular fan of your dynasty — not many in Morley have. Unlike Khulan," he spoke the name mockingly, "sentimental fool he was."

The two Overseers wearing music boxes came up to me, roughly pulling the shirt I'd just been given from my body. They grabbed me by the arms with more force than was strictly necessary, their boxes thudding against their chests. Rubber gloves wrapped around my bare skin, dragging me towards the chair at the center of the room. I was abruptly thrown into the metal seat, my bare skin hitting the cold surface with a force great enough to rattle my bones.

"High Overseer Khulan was a more honourable man than you'll ever be," the Empress growled behind me.

He chuckled. "Former High Overseer Khulan was blind to the greatest heretic of the Empire hiding right beneath his nose." His eyes glinted as they turned to me. "I have succeeded where he has failed. I have written history."

"Your sons have," I corrected weakly as my arms and legs were contained by the iron shackles attached to the chair. "You merely reaped the benefits."

"Ah yes, my boys. They have served me well. Marcus and Darren were always a special pair… But of course you knew that. You know everything... _Almost_ everything." A smug grin lifted his lips and bared his pointed teeth. He approached me like a wolf might approach their prey — hungering. "They say royalty are defined by their blood. I believe the same rings true for evil. One can tell a lot about someone from only a small droplet of blood." He stopped in front of me, his breath hitting my skin in humid wafts, smelling like old, rancid coffee. "Blood soaks into everything, merges with the fabric it touches. I was surprised when my boys presented me with a small piece of carpet. Told me they'd cut it away from the hallways of the Empress herself," he snickered.

I glanced at the Empress behind me who's expression progressively darkened.

"It had sung to them, they told me, notes they recognised from our music boxes. Notes they'd heard at Shindearey Quarry." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'm sure you're familiar with the Eyeless — after all they pulled you from the streets of whatever shithole you were born in." He rested his hands on top of the shackles that bound me, leaning closer to me, every pore distinctly visible upon his oily skin.

 _Blisters, red and swollen. Slather them and starve a little more._

His eyes traveled my form, mild curiosity shining in their depths, before continuing on in a barely contained whisper. "We executed them all. The entire cult. The ones we could find, at least."

"And you never thought it wise to consult with your Empress before making such decisions?"

His head snapped towards the woman that stood just out of my view. "The Abbey's work supersedes the rule of some mere Empress. But that's beside the point — I'm certain your schedule was tight enough, what with your failing economy." He moved back, lifting his hands from where they rested. "Tell me: how much of the Royal Reserves still remain, in light of the darkness that has swallowed your Empire," he taunted his prisoner, before he turned to gesture at the two Overseers that had taken up post behind him. "One of you fetch my supplies and another chair; restrain her, make her watch — oh, and call for Doctor Kwon. We'll need him," he ordered swiftly before turning back to me, lowering his hands back onto the shackles, his breath once more hitting my face in nauseating waves. He resumed his story, almost as if he'd never been interrupted. "We found their hideout, laid siege to their heretical playground. I'm sure the details would bore you." He waved a hand as if to swat away the uninteresting retelling of events.

Corvo and Billie were headed there; what would they find within those frightful caverns whose walls were tinged red with spilled blood and cut into shape by piercing screams?

"No... the Eyeless were but obstacles for us to clear. It's what they were hiding that's truly important…"

The door creaked as one of the Overseers returned, carrying a chair on which a robust chest rested, followed by who I knew to be Doctor Kwon. He was a short man, dressed in attire typical to the Isle of Wei-Ghon. His hair was black and long, tied into a loose ponytail. I'd often observed this man as he discovered the world around him, and found he was refined in all the ways Anton Sokolov had never been — I also knew his intellect was impressive, but the old Royal Physician's remained unmatched.

"Ah, Doctor Kwon, please, please; come here." The High Overseer motioned for the man to join him where he stood.

The doctor nodded meekly, clutching a leather bag to his frail chest as he walked to his superior. The chair and chest were both placed in front of me, the other Overseer directing the Empress towards the worn looking stool. I watched her tall form come into view, her eyes pinned on me still. I supposed I made a satisfyingly pathetic sight — my slender form contained by iron shackles, pale arms forced away from my partly exposed body. I was vulnerable, and for once I was unable to walk away.

"Bind her securely, she's a strong one." High Overseer Kenly ordered, his hand coming to rest on Doctor Kwon's shoulder before fully turning to the short intellectual. "I take it you've been briefed properly, Doctor?"

Kwon nodded hesitantly, answered by a short, firm nod from Kenly.

The High Overseer briefly turned to look at one of the men carrying the music boxes. "Did he eat?" He dipped his head at me to clarify who he meant.

"No sir, she took it from him," one of the Overseers answered, glancing at the seething Empress.

"Good, good," he muttered before returning his attention to the doctor. "I need you to check his vitals for me, before we commence."

The measly doctor gave another hesitant nod, his eyes slowly traveling towards my face from where they'd been glued to the floor. I could hear his erratic heartbeat, his breathing unusually fast; he was afraid of me.

I looked towards the Empress, who kept her glare trained on me still. Yes, she was as stubborn as ever. She'd hold her grudge, which I hoped would be a good thing. Being sympathetic to me wouldn't help her in any way, shape, or form — that much had been proven already. Especially not if the High Overseer was watching our every interaction.

The leather bag was opened, revealing cold medical supplies I recognised to be the same as Sokolov's. Trembling hands wrapped around the intricate metalwork, approaching me carefully. He listened to my pulse, amongst other things. His hands never ceased their trembling, and I could hear his racing heart stutter several times from where it beat in his chest. This man was absolutely terrified. My eyes observed his drawn features, thick eyebrows pulled into a concentrated frown, but his gaze avoided mine at all costs.

After a number of familiar tests he removed his hand, putting away the cold tools before turning to address the High Overseer. "He's healthy, sir… A strong and steady heartbeat — although infected by subtle traces of magic. Still, I believe it most likely won't interfere."

The High Overseer looked pleased to hear these results, a smug smile returning to his face. "Thank you, Doctor. You may take your place upstairs, come down if necessary."

The doctor nodded quickly before scurrying out of the room, his leather bag once more clutched to his chest. He had his reasons for being scared, misfortunes taken advantage of by the Abbey. He'd been an easy mind to bend to their will, all the foundations laid into place by a life too unfortunate for a good individual like him. But perhaps not all of it had been the Abbey's doing alone, perhaps I too was to blame for at least some of his grievances. Who could tell?

"Overseer Phillis, if you could fetch the hose." The High Overseer moved to retrieve some items from the chest, arranging them on a nearby table. Some of them were wrapped in cloth, as if he didn't want to reveal them just yet. When the spacious chest appeared to be empty he glanced at the Empress, briefly, before directing his full attention back to me again. "I'm going to give you a choice here, Outsider. Either you talk willingly, and live out the remaining two weeks in peace — or we make you talk. And trust me: two weeks can feel like 4000 years all over again."

I regarded the man with disinterest, unfazed by his threats. He could try me: I never talked, not if I didn't want to. So I remained silent, disinclined to waste my words on him.

He snickered at my lack of reaction. "Now, now, boy, don't do anything you'll come to regret," he sneered as he accepted the hose that was handed to him by Overseer Phillis. He grabbed one of the objects he'd retrieved from the chest: a worn looking bucket with measurements carved into the side.

"On the contrary, I'm not doing anything," I rebutted as I eyed the bucket warily, reclining into my chair and resting my head against the support as I raised my chin at the man in challenge.

"You're forcing my hand here," he warned, a glint in his eyes. "Turn it on," he instructed. Overseer Phillis was quick to obey as he moved towards the faucet, turning it with a loud squeak. Water started dripping from the hose, small droplets quickly turned into a steady stream, splattering onto the metal flooring in wet drips. "You see, we uncovered a rather peculiar artefact within the mines of Shindearey. Something I'm sure you're very familiar with." The High Overseer rolled up his sleeves as he approached me, hose and bucket in hand. "The Eye of the Dead God," he grinned, the expression unbefitting his features. He slid the hose into the bucket, patiently filling it with water.

I didn't react to his words, my eyes regarding him with unperturbed aloofness. What could he possibly want to know from me regarding the old God? Or perhaps this wasn't about the old God at all. Perhaps he simply meant to ask about the Void itself. Perhaps none of those things.

"Conveniently, the Eye led us straight into the place you once called home." His eyes traveled to the hose he still held clutched in his hand, watching the water as it spilled from the object. "What a place to be stuck in… terrifying, truly," he muttered as his eyes glazed over, still glued to the streaming liquid. "I can only imagine the horror of existing in such a dimension for long-stretching centuries…"

I felt my eyes drawn to the hose as well, the clear liquid danced before me, scattering into glitter as it beat down within the unusual bucket. I didn't like thinking about the Void, or how it had made me feel. Sometimes I missed it, in a way, but I wasn't keen on remembering exactly why it terrified me all the same.

"We were quick to find use of the place, however," he continued, eyes returning to me. "Without a deity there to control it, it's been… turbulent. Storms have been wreaking havoc, strong currents of energy are ravaging the place," he paused, that same glint returning to his eyes. "Electrical energy." He perched one of his feet on my chair, next to my leg, his black boot bumping my limb. He leaned down and rested his elbow on top of his raised knee, lowering his face before he continued. "We wish to harness these forces. Drawing directly from the Void itself would negate the use of whale oil entirely. Our problems would be solved." He paused, wetting his lips, his eyes moving as if through memories. "...Of course, things aren't that easy. There is much we don't know about the Void. Knowledge that has been obtained but laid to waste over the years, forgotten. But I'm certain… You could help us refresh our memories."

I raised my eyebrows at the man before me, inching forward to meet his stare. "No," I said, tilting my head as I held his gaze, unwilling to indulge the likes of him — or the Abbey for that matter. I refused to give them an unfair advantage; information gleaned by a God had no business in the minds of people.

He moved back, retrieving his boot from where it had been perched. "I'm sure you recall the Siege of Whitecliff, back in 1708. The Abbey suffered some terrible losses during the Rectification War, High Overseer Holger being one of them," he started. "I'm sure you remember the interrogation methods used on the heretics — those fools who thought you'd protect them." He smirked down at the running water. "Yes, they thought wrong. And now, you'll know what they felt; those unfortunate followers of yours."

I remembered them. The unhinged who'd committed murder in my name — sacrifices, they'd called it, to please the god. The god they spoke for, words that had never left my lips. Lies? Or just fabricated truths? They had been the makers of their own undoing, the cause of their own suffering. But if the man honestly thought he could torture me into talking with such methods, then he underestimated the true 'horror of my existence,' as he'd put it.

"Who sacrificed you," he asked, surprising me. That was what he was after? Why? I bit my tongue stubbornly, my eyes momentarily drawn to the Empress who watched me with unconcealed interest. A kick, my knee cracking beneath the force. "Who ended your life 4000 years ago, Outsider?" the High Overseer asked again, more insistent this time. He took a step forward, the water that spilled from the bucket drawing another shiny path across the floor. I returned my gaze to him, regarding his towering height as he loomed over my seated form menacingly, his dark boots wet from the fallen liquid. He tipped his head, waiting for me to respond.

I wouldn't. I held on to the information as would a mother to her babe — clutched within my cold grasp, this was the last shred of who I was, _who I had been_. I wouldn't give that away, I wouldn't have them mock me.

"Let's see if we can make those words... _flow…_ " He lifted the hose, slowly, before throwing it across the table without bothering to turn it off. He grabbed a funnel form the same table, momentarily placing the bucket next to the hose to free his other hand. He turned back to me, his fingers wrapping around my face in a bone-crunching hold. His nails twisted into my skin and forced my jaw to move, opening my mouth before shoving the funnel between my teeth — wrapping a pair of his digits around it to keep it in place. My eyes shot between his hand and the bucket it reached for, he carefully retrieved the object as the water sloshed within. I felt my heart rate increase, the blood whizzing in my ears like constant static, deafening. My back pressed closer against the chair, until I was certain my spine might snap in two beneath the pressure.

I didn't even bother to fight the shackles placed around my arms, I knew there was no escape. I'd have to endure this. I'd have to survive, be tough — the weak ones never made it.

He raised the bucket with one hand, slowly tipping the container until its contents spilled over the edge. The water poured into my mouth — his other hand wrapped tightly around the funnel so two fingers could clutch my nose to snuff my breath, forcing me to drink the fluid in order to breathe again. Cold liquid streamed through me, caressed me from the inside out and filled the space of my body, seeping into every corner, every vein that branched within me as would a river. I choked on the constant stream, my lungs burning, begging for air, begging for life instead of liquid death — but it was no use. I spasmed, followed by a string of coughs, feeling some of the fluid enter my wind-pipe, drawing more gasps from within me. The room danced before my eyes, the soft flicker of candles turned to bright, blinding flashes. I was drowning, again. Her face was there, her sharp features watching me, her eyes flashing too.

And then the water was gone, the funnel fell from my mouth and onto the floor with a loud clatter. I was left wheezing, gasping for air, disgorging fluid that had dripped into my lungs, into every inch of me. I felt bloated, sick, as if I might explode any minute. Everything ached, my throat torn by the slicing rains that had drenched the inside of me. Air, I needed air, but it refused to come, refused to relieve me of my suffering. I wheezed some more, choking still on excess and residue. My entire body shook, my ribcage forced outward by gasping coughs that trembled through every part of me, bounced off the walls and cut straight back into my ears.

"Let me help you with that," the High Overseer offered, a sadistic twist played on his lips as he bent to pick up the funnel and rested both objects back onto the table. Then, out of nowhere, his boot connected with my stomach, expelling all that had been poured into me in one sickening gasp. Water spilled across the floors, mixed with my own sick, a large puddle pooling at my feet, reaching the Empress's even. I spasmed even more, a shudder running through every inch of my being, feeling as if my gut had been torn into two, my throat seared by acid. He calmly picked up the hose, carefully refilling the bucket before returning his attention to me.

"So… who sacrificed you?" His hand wrapped around my shoulder, shoving me back against the chair, my spine bemoaning the impact.

I fought to maintain my focus, to look the man in the eyes. I was panting, my glistening chest dancing beneath my chin, my pronounced ribs moving — my pale skin wrapping around them too tightly. "Go fuck your dead wife." I smirked weakly, my lips quivering as they fought to maintain the expression. He had to be an absolute idiot if he thought he could get me to talk this way. I'd been sacrificed to the Void, I had been drowning within the uncaring abyss for centuries, constantly reliving my death, my existence only half a life. This was nothing new. This wouldn't break _me_.

The man nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes refuge to the storm that brewed within him. He flew forward, cold fingers wrapping around my face, the pressure enough to dislocate my jaw if he wanted to, forcing it open another time. His other hand traveled to the table, roughly pulling the funnel from its surface. The metal material of the object clattered against my teeth as he shoved it back into place, then he retrieved the bucket and raised it swiftly to pour more water into me. I felt it bloat me, similar to a dead body after being left to rot. The room started flashing again, the Empress's face springing in and out of view. I tried to force my eyes open, tried to keep them trained on her face — tried to hold onto my consciousness. But the more I drank the harder it became to remain cognizant. I was fading, my wit drifting further away from me.

The air was returned to me, shortly, before the hard heel of a boot connected with my gut and forced the contents of my stomach away from me again, splashing into the already formed puddle. I looked at the man responsible for my current pain, the funnel and bucket clasped between curling fingers, the cruel High Overseer who revelled in my suffering. As he'd revelled before, but with a victim more close to his heart.

"' _No,_ ' she said, ' _don't. Don't hurt me please,_ '" I spoke in between gasps and chokes, my voice fragile and hoarse, the sounds hard to produce. Another kick to my gut, this time it was personal, and I couldn't contain the smirk that pulled at my lips again.

I didn't say anything else, didn't answer his question, so the ritual started anew. Each time he filled me until I was close to passing out — sometimes I did and I had to be awakened by another kick of his boot. Acid was eating at the sensitive lining of my throat, burning through the flesh there. It hurt to breathe, my lungs destroyed by the harsh waters, cutting away at the sensitive organs within me. I didn't want to breathe anymore, it ached too much, but I had to. I needed air. I needed to survive. I glanced at the Empress again, her features pulled into a horrified grimace.

More water, drowning the life out of me. More choking, more pain. All came in excess. All they ever wanted was excess. More things, more pleasures, more… I was suffering, but I refused to break. He could pry the flesh from my bones and I still wouldn't tell him. A boot, kicking the contents from my stomach, kicking the life out of me as it merged with the water, only to stream from my lips into the ever-growing puddle that soaked my bare feet, my toes — still there, all accounted for.

Again and again, he repeated the ritual — drowned me and then kicked me back to life. Seconds felt like hours, and I was certain hours must have passed. I grew weaker and weaker, my body destroyed by the invasive method.

"Who. Sacrificed. You?" he spat into my face, droplets of spittle hitting my cheeks. "What was their name?!"

Blood fell from my lips, onto my heaving chest, drawing red lines across white skin. "G… go f…ck yo…dead- wife," I breathed weakly, my voice almost completely dissolved by the sting of acid. A boot, this time connecting to my chest, followed by a sharp crack. My rib; snapping beneath the force — it was just as well. I felt myself lurch forward, coughing up pieces of what might have been my gullet, my stomach completely empty.

"I see I'll have to use a different approach." The man in front of me shifted, his shiny boots thudding before my blurry vision, turning towards the Empress. "I'm certain you aren't as tough to crack, are you? Your Majesty?" he purred, his fingers combing through her hair, tugging errant strands behind her ear.

"You expect me to have your answers?" she asked incredulously, her words bouncing off the walls, just a fraction too sharp. She wouldn't admit it, but I could tell she was frightened.

"No," the High Overseer drawled as he drew back, "but I'm sure he'll ask me to stop before long."

I felt the familiar sensation of laughter bubbling in my aching chest, the sounds dancing off my lips alongside the blood and sick — gurgling croaks that hauntingly rang off the surrounding metalwork. "W… why would-" I coughed up more blood.

"Oh, but you do care. For her, at least." He left the Empress's side and headed towards the table near me, unwrapping one of the bundles he'd retrieved from his pockets earlier.

"I don-"

"He doesn't," she cut in sharply.

"I have sufficient evidence that you do, so truly, you could either answer my question now and spare your little lady, or you submit her to even more suffering, dealt again by your hand." He tipped his head at me, his fingers wrapped around a familiar object. "Truly the Surge was an atrocious sacrifice, but it ended up bringing us much more than we could have possibly hoped for."

I felt my heartbeat increase at the sight, the worn leather aged by the years. It didn't mean anything. I… It didn't mean anything. "Liar," I grunted weakly, to which the High Overseer smirked before revealing a yellowed letter tucked inside the worn book.

"Tell me if these words sound familiar," he started, simpering at the Empress before continuing. "Dated 1837;" he cleared his throat. " _'Now that the painting is finished, I will sit in young lady Emily's skin and wear her face like a mummer's mask. Havelock and his lickspittles will put the child on the throne, but it is ME they will be crowning. Delilah_.'" He raised an inquisitorial eyebrow at me, his grin still broad enough to split his face into two. "And how about these," he continued, thumbing through the book. "' _The problem is that I don't know enough. There are missing pieces. I can't imagine how or why Delilah is linked to the death of the Empress, but the Outsider wouldn't bother saying it unless it contained some grain of truth. Now it's driving me mad, like a puzzle I can't get out of my head. A riddle in pigment and blood. No doubt that black-eyed bastard takes delight in watching me twist into knots. He knows I can't abide a mystery._ '" He snapped the old diary shut, holding it out before my face as if he was waiting for me to bite down on it, like a hungering hagfish.

"Do…doesn-" I tried to speak, but the words stuck to the bloody walls of my throat.

"You broke the _one_ rule we know you consistently lived by, a rule you had steadily upheld for over 4000 years, according to our records. For a girl, an Empress. Coincidence is it then, that you happen to end up living with her?" he questioned, but I knew he meant it to be rhetorical. "Someone in her position must know at least something."

"What are you talking about?" The Empress's voice was raw, with what I couldn't quite tell. My eyes found hers in the dim light of the room, the sight of her unrecognisable in my failing vision.

"It means he saved you from the witch Delilah, 15 years ago," High Overseer Kenly explained. "Let's see if he'll save you now, too." With a fast sweep his hand captured her face, forcing her back against her chair, her neck bent at an awkward angle.

I couldn't. I couldn't give her this. I couldn't give them this information. _I couldn't..._

"No, please!" she shrieked. "No! I don't know anythin-" The funnel cut her off as her hands fought against the restraints, tried to escape their hold. The chair wobbled, moved by the force of her protests. I looked away, down to the floor covered in pools stained red. Covered in me.

I could hear the gurgling sounds she made as the High Overseer flooded her body with liquid agony. She was screaming, but the sound was muffled by the constant stream — still the noise hurt me nonetheless. The chair scraped against the floor, squeaked as she used her weight to fight the assault, to try and escape. She couldn't, for once _she_ couldn't.

It felt like hours before the gurgling screams ceased, the funnel removed from her bruised lips. I could hear the impact his boot made, before the water, along with her breakfast — _my breakfast_ — poured from her mouth in wrenching waves. Tears streamed down her face, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe, tried to fill her flooded lungs with air instead of fluid.

"Please…" she whimpered, her body gone slack and her gaze directed at the floor beneath.

The High Overseer turned to me, his eyebrows raised in question. I looked away. I just couldn't give her this. He took my passiveness as an answer, his hand pulling the Empress upright again, her features contorted in pain. Her chest heaved with the panicked breaths she took, accompanied by the sound of her wheezing. "Please…" she whimpered again, her eyes drawn to the nearing funnel. I could hear the water that spilled from the bucket hit her chair, splatter against the wood; moving to her face. "No…" she protested, panic raising her pitch until she shrieked with fear. "No! No! _His throat!_ That's his weakness! His throat!"

The High Overseer halted his movements, gaze drawn to my shocked form, my wide eyes staring at the cowering Empress. He chuckled darkly, dropping the bucket and funnel into the puddle below with a loud clatter. "Turn it off," he commanded one of the Overseers, before closing in on me. "Seems she's of good use after all," he purred, bending over in front of me, his face inches away.

She met my gaze then, and I understood. An eye for an eye. Now she had betrayed me in return, but torture wasn't quite as high a price as death — still, death would have been more merciful.

The shape of the Overseer's hand came into view, headed for the place from which my life had spilled, the tear that had taken my humanity away from me. I caught the movement of his other hand in the corner of my eye, the glint of a scalpel reaching my gaze. My fingers wrapped around the armrests with all their might, knuckles white. I pressed my aching spine against the back of the chair — the action causing a searing pain to shoot through me, the kind of pain I welcomed — the discomfort that made me feel more at home. Each breath I took was agony, my broken rib threatening to pierce my lung like a pointed blade. His hand wrapped around the left side of my neck, pressing into my skin.

 _Nails, blackened with grime. Nails, blackened with grime. Nails, blackened with grime. Nails, blackened with grime. Nails, blackened with grime._

The scalpel neared, its surface catching the flickers of the nearby flames. "Let's see," the High Overseer started, "if you're willing to talk now." His voice dripped with sickening intrigue, his chest slightly raised with the breath he held.

 _Nails, blackened with grime. Nails, blackened with grime. Nails, blackened with grime. Don't cry now, boy. Don't weep._

The cold metal pressed into my skin, drawing blood. "No..." I heard myself beg, my vision leaving me, eyes gone unseeing — all had disappeared as they rolled back into my skull. Another cut, and the darkness consumed more of me. "No..." I didn't recognise my voice, couldn't place the primal tones that mixed in between.

 _He was going to kill me. He was going to kill me. He was going to kill me. He was going to kill me. He was going to kill me._

Another small cut, blood trailing down tenderly — a warning. "Don't. Don't. Don't. _Don't. Don't. Don't..._ " I felt my body squirm involuntarily as it started to fight, my feet hitting the floor, hitting the puddle and splashing into the waters. I rocked within my chair, as if trying to escape, but the more I moved the more the ropes cut into my skin. It hurt. It hurt so bad. Adrenaline shot through me, elevating my heartbeat until I was sure it'd break more of my ribs with its force.

 _Bring me a flower if you could, would you? You know how I like those — the pretty ones._

Stinging pain, another cut, enough to send me over the edge — enough to make me forget where I was and when. I started screaming, started shrieking within the chair. The force of the sound tore at my vocal chords; a shrill, grating noise. "NO!" I screeched at the top my lungs, the world spinning around me, a hand wrapped around my throat — _nails blackened with grime_. "NO! NO! NO! _NO! NET!_ " Tears stung my eyes, bulging with fright. I writhed within the chair, fought the restraint that kept me down, but there was no escape, nowhere I could go.

 _He'd betrayed me. He'd betrayed us both. He'd brought me here to kill, to slaughter. He'd betrayed me._

The sounds I produced were no longer intelligible, fast sentences uttered beneath my breath, pleas for mercy. I could hear someone speak, but the words made no sense to me. Strange tongues. I was surrounded by strange tongues. I was crying, weeping. But I shouldn't. Don't cry, don't weep.

 _Bring me a flower if you could, would you? You know how I like those — the pretty ones._

Pain stung my chest, wrapped my heart in a vice like grip, squeezed until I writhed in agony. Gone. Gone. All gone. I didn't understand, didn't know why this would happen. Why me? I didn't want this, I hadn't asked for this — but I had no choice. My freedom was compromised by tight ropes and my choice cut away by the cold touch of a twin-bladed knife. Blood seeped down my throat, and I vaguely registered the sharp pain that burst through my chest as I fought the constraints of my chair. Panic. I was terrified. I had to escape, I had to run, but I couldn't. There was no escape. There were no more choices left.

 _Yes... I love you._

* * *

 _No... too soon. It had died again. Why did they always wilt so soon? I'd bring back another, surely — I'd find another. I moved to collect my boots and shrugged on my thick layers of leathers and furs. I dreaded leaving my makeshift shelter, but... I had to find another. Spring was on its way — the long slumbers of winter come to an end — it shouldn't be hard._

 _The cold bit into my skin as soon as I left the safe warmth of the fire. It'd been snowing, blanketing the landscape in layers upon layers of white powder. I'd have to go to the forest; the town was an unlikely place to find what I was looking for._

 _My feet sunk into the deep heaps of snow, swallowing my legs to the knees. I felt the cold wrap around my limbs, pinching me with icy fingers. It was late, the sun would go down soon. I'd have to hurry, lest I be trapped in the darkness. The walk wouldn't be long. I knew a patch of woods that stood near the sea, on the rising slopes of a cliff._

 _I ran, my feet made heavy by the icy pull, white matter stuck to my pants and boots. Tendrils of steam curled around me as I breathed, the warmth of it caressing my face. Each gulp of crisp air cooled my lungs, stung my throat — but the strain of exertion warmed my muscles, ignited my core as my heart worked to keep up with the demands of my limbs. I left the barren outskirts of the silent town behind me, turning my back towards the safety of brick buildings that housed warm fires and expelled black smoke._

 _There on the horizon, peaked a row of bristly pine, their needles covered in white flakes. They glittered in the light of the afternoon sun, fragmented colours spread across unsoiled down. My eyes searched for hints of green amongst the crystal-covered landscape — from beneath the snow, white buds would emerge carried by emerald stems._

 _My body was easily swallowed by the surrounding trees, the pines engulfing me with their shadows, their tops barely visible from directly below. Birds sang their last tunes of the day; their farewells to the departing sun, before safely turning in for the night. They knew better than to dare chirp once darkness had fallen — predators would crawl from their dens, hungry after a long hibernation._

 _My run had slowed to a walk, my feet wading through a lake of powdery ice, treading carefully in case of hidden holes or trenches. My ears burned, the sensitive skin crying out for warmth, for the fire I'd left behind. I paid no mind to my body's complaints; I'd learned not to. Be strong, toughen up, the weak ones never make it through here._

 _I could hear the sea clearly now, the burst of waves hitting the shore echoed through the eerily silent woods. The birds had quieted, I noticed. My heart still raced, blood howling in my ears — sounds that resembled the rhythmic song of curling waters nearby. I felt myself drawn to those melodies, to the powerful crashes that beat against the rocky shores. There was an undertone of something there, something other. It called my name, begged me to come._

 _Orange light illuminated the trees, outlined their ever-growing arms that branched all around me — held me in their shadowy embrace. Beams of sunlight were splintered by those prickly limbs, leaving only thin golden strands — threading through the forest with their evanescent presence. The air had a ethereal feel to it, as if I'd stumbled into another plane of existence altogether, hauled from the harsh reality I'd been birthed into._

 _It became increasingly harder to distinguish the sound of my own heartbeat from the sounds of the sloshing waves, my breath stilling as I grew enthralled within my own shadowy realm. Time slowed to a halt and each step I took felt unnaturally brisk. I knew the edges of the cliff lay obscured just behind the greenery that surrounded me, their whispers growing louder the more I traversed. Almost there. Still no pearly buds carried on vibrant stems, better keep going. Better keep searching._

 _There, a clearing, bathed in golden light — dressed in the glow of the setting sun; I felt the fabric rub against my skin, warming me, shielding me from the hands of ice that tried to pull me down, tried to lead me back to the city. There, on the nearing edge, my eyes found what I'd been searching for — the first hints of spring. The white flowers stood absorbing the life-giving rays, basking in their heat._

 _I picked up my pace as I trekked towards the small florets, unaware of the dissipating light, the sinking sun that made way for the silver moon. They loomed before me, just out of reach. I stretched out my arm, tried to take one of them. But as soon as I reached the small patch of greenery I was confronted by the large drop that lay beyond the edge of frozen rocks._

 _There, beneath the plummet, the waves wrote my name in foam and salt._

 _I froze, confused. The last rays of sunlight illuminated the waters, turned them into a sea of amber whence the music came. I retrieved my hand, momentarily distracted — forgetting about the pretty flowers. I held my breath, daring myself to lean forward, to look closer — I must have been imagining things._

 _I rested my hand atop the cold rocks, inching forward as my eyes searched the swirling mass of water. Surely, I must have been mistaken? Just a little closer. Almost there. Lean down..._

 _And before I could make a sound, I fell._

* * *

My body hit something cold and hard, leaving me winded, gasping for air. Where was I? What happened? My arms tried to grasp onto something, anything. I could hear someone speaking, their words strange and distant. I thrashed within the darkness as I searched for support, for anything to hold onto — but the air was empty. Where was I?

My fingers wrapped around something warm; hands, I realised. Those hands steadied me, pulled me away from the hard surface and back to the place I fell from. I tried to open my eyes, but each time the light hit them I was urged to close them by a splitting headache. I groaned, my body hurt with a strangely dull pain; like the lingering burn after being hit. What happened?

More words, words that made absolutely no sense to me. I retracted my hands from the ones that held them, using them to rub my face and try and open my eyes within the darkness of my palms. Although it still stung, the pain was less searing without the burning light. A warm hand rested on my back — thin fingers, narrow palm. I carefully tried to pry my protective shield away, my hands moving to allow the light to hit my eyes. It hurt for a moment, eliciting another hiss from me, but soon my blurred vision started to focus.

A room... lit only by candlelight. What had happened? Panic surged within me, my breaths steadily becoming shorter and faster. Where was I? Where was the snow? The cliff? The sun had been setting, I'd have to get back soon, I had to return. I glanced around me, at the strange shining structures. I didn't recognise any of this. I quickly turned to my feet, my boots gone... All my things were gone.

A voice, again that voice. Strange words, spoken questioningly. I finally turned towards it, my eyes locking onto a young woman. My heart raced, my breathing fast and panicked. Who was she? Where was I? What happened? I reluctantly met her gaze, two amber eyes regarded me with unexplainable familiarity. Her lips moved, asking a question, that I could discern.

"Mel?"

Mel? What did that mean? What was a 'Mel'?

My heart stilled, cold sweat breaking out across my skin. Mel... I knew that name... I knew those amber eyes...

"Mel? Are you..."

I knew those words, had spoken the same, had learned them from my own lonely plane. I had died. He'd betrayed me. And I'd died, only to remain — forever. Until now. Until… I flew back, my back connecting to the wall behind me. I looked around the room, heart racing again, dizzying me with an overload of adrenaline. The surrounding air chilled me, choked me.

The Abbey of the Everyman. High Overseer Altair Kenly. Scalpel cutting into my throat... I remembered it all. Remembered the hours of excruciating torture, the slender fingers that had wrapped around my throat as she cursed me for my betrayal, the long walk that had brought us here, my promises, centuries that echoed within my mind — whispers of dead people. I looked back to the Empress, her features set with worry. I remembered now, we'd been playing a game — and I'd lost.

I quickly became aware of my strange lack of stabbing pain, and my hands reached for my rib, the one I'd been sure had been broken. I prodded the space beneath my shirt, tried to find the one that had cracked beneath the High Overseer's boot.

There was nothing, just some lingering discomfort.

"You healed."

My eyes snapped back to the Empress, who kneeled before me, looking more haggard than I remembered her being. I quickly turned to the windows, the barred up glass from where we'd been watched.

"He's not there, stopped coming yesterday."

Yesterday? How… What day was it?

She seemed to sense my questions, her mind quick to latch onto them. "You've been out for three days, healed after only one. Kwon thought it was a miracle."

I slowly turned back to the woman before me, my breath stuck in my throat. Three days? I'd been out for three whole days? What time was it now? The lack of windows made it impossible to tell, _had the sun set?_

The Empress appeared to pick up on my thoughts, a soft frown on her face. "It's night." Her eyes darted away for a moment, before returning to mine, studying me again. She appeared to contemplate something, her frown deepening. I watched her in silence, feeling distant and confused. She moved then, her hand reaching for my face. I flinched away, panicked. I tried to make sense of my feelings, tried to understand why she frightened me. Something told me not to trust her. Was it because she'd turned on me so easily? Or because I was too much of a coward to admit I'd deserved it? Maybe none of those things… She read my fear, her gaze darkening for a moment.

My throat felt dry, parched. My tongue darted out to wet my lips, I realised I was thirsty. The Empress was quick to react again, handing me a cup of water intuitively. I hesitantly accepted the offered object, eyeing her warily, before gratefully gulping down the stale fluid.

"You're braver than I…" I heard her mutter, noticing for the first time how hoarse she actually sounded, "I haven't been able to drink since…"

I looked at her then, truly looked at her — realising 'haggard' had been an understatement. Her skin appeared dry and bleak, her once silken hair frizzed, her eyes and cheeks sickly sunken… Everything about her screamed dehydration.

Three days. That meant three days without water. Experience taught me three days was a general maximum — after that, you'd die. I looked down at the empty cup, I'd drank it all… She'd need some too. She had no choice, I had no choice. If I allowed her to continue like this she'd face certain death. I glanced around the room, eyes searching for a source, somewhere to draw the liquid from. I spotted the hose, neatly stored away after its use. I lifted myself from my cot, at least, I attempted to. I soon discovered moving was a lot more difficult than I'd hoped. I fell forward, my legs unable to carry my weight. The Empress reacted with shock.

"What are you-"

I ignored her, crawling towards the hose with what little strength I still possessed. My fingers clutched the emptied cup, holding onto it securely. Luckily the room was small, meaning I reached my destination before I'd most certainly collapse from the strain I put on my too-weak body. I quickly took the hose from where it had been stashed, turning the faucet with my other hand as I momentarily set the cup down. Water spilled from the object, and I was unpleasantly reminded of the torture I'd had to endure — the constant drowning. I felt the water rise within my lungs as it rose within the cup, but I stubbornly fought the creeping sensations.

I effectively snuffed those feelings as quickly as I could. Ignore your body's complaints — be strong, toughen up, the weak ones never make it. I filled the cup before cutting the water off, leaving the hose discarded on the floor. I dragged myself back to my cot, some of the water spilling over the edge of the cup, splattering onto the floor. The Empress regarded me with a strange look, her lips parted in an attempt to breath easier, her weakened body already faltering. I returned to where I'd sat, directly in front of her, before offering her the cup.

"You… I- I can't," she shook her head sadly, a tortured look in her eyes.

I tried to speak, tried to convince her that she'd die soon if she didn't. No sounds came from my throat, my vocal cords still torn from the overtax they'd been subjected to. I took a shuddery breath, casting my eyes down to my lap, attempting to temper the panic that still clawed at my gut. I had to collect myself, had to focus. Survival was more important than anything. I'd bend myself to the beatings, I'd adapt. Like the truth, I too was pliable.

"Was it true?" she questioned then, her hands wringing nervously in the corner of my vision — her fingers stiff and trembling.

I looked up, confused, my eyes meeting hers in a clash of cool hazel and burning amber.

"You helped stop Delilah?"

I didn't acknowledge her question, instead I urged her to drink again; holding out the cup once more. Her eyes flitted between my outstretched hand and face, a contemplative look on hers. She took the drink, carefully, as if it might bite her. The water sloshed within its container; shaken by her trembling limb. She raised it to her lips, but didn't sip just yet. Instead she continued staring at me, as if she didn't recognise the person before her.

"You didn't heal on your own before… You did something," she spoke into the water, her breath sending ripples across its surface. "What are you planning?"

I cocked my head at the question, eyeing her curiously. She glanced down at her drink, chapped lips still hovering at the rim. I wondered if she was still angry at me, aware that part of me sincerely hoped she was. Anger I could deal with, it was easier to distance oneself from. But now as I looked at her forlorn expression, I felt too eerily reminded of our moment within the hallway — of warm touches and tantalising scents. Tomorrow would dish out more torment, more experiences she'd carry with her for the remainder of her life. I found the thought hurt me more than I wanted it to, my heart clenching painfully within my chest.

She remained there, frozen in time, her body incapable of finishing the gesture she'd attempted — the barriers of her mind stilling her limbs, binding her within herself. I did something I knew I'd regret, my hand moving on its own accord: I reached out, finger pressing against the bottom of the cup, gently lifting it until it tipped enough to allow a small stream to trickle between her waiting lips.

Her eyes widened at first, the flicker of memories passing through her stare — as if she wasn't there anymore but back in her chair, drowning. I lowered myself onto the floor beside her, my other hand moving to rest on her back, to offer the least bit if comfort I knew how to give. My touch pulled her away from her delusions, bringing her back into the now. She glanced at me, confused, before she moved her trembling hands to pour more of the liquid into her mouth, down her throat. She drank, hesitantly, her eyes never leaving my face.

Tomorrow we could pretend again. Pretend this never happened, pretend we hated each other. The day would wash away the night again, would relieve us of these strange moments shared in the cover of darkness. Tomorrow all would be as usual, I would be hated, and all would be my fault.

 _My fault. My mistakes._


	9. Clean

_They were talking, discussing something. He was there too, dressed in white. He looked better, more put together than I remembered him, but his nails gave him away. Cracks in his facade — they were rimmed with black. He scratched his nose, pale eyes darted through the room — I hid away from his piercing gaze, closing my own eyes as if I'd be less likely to be spotted that way. But within the darkness I found the damning image had been burned into my retinas._

 _Nails, blackened with grime._

* * *

Breakfast. Cleansing. Interrogation. Cleansing. Dinner. Sleep. Breakfast. Cleansing. Interrogation. Cleansing. Dinner. Sleep.

Routine.

Another two days gone. Six days since our arrest. Eight more until our execution, until Corvo and Billie returned. Four until the start of Month of Darkness. Days had never mattered to me in the Void. They passed within the blink of an eye. Now I found myself counting them, keeping track.

Had Sokolov understood? Eight more until our execution, if we made it that long.

The Empress and I hadn't spoken after that night. I was relieved to find she ceremoniously forced herself to drink each day, hydrating her weakened body. Her eyes would always find mine, as if looking at me helped — somehow. Maybe it was because I'd been put through the same, yet I wasn't bothered — no, I had other things to bother me. The High Overseer had yet to show his face again, there'd been whispers of a disturbance that needed his attention — I wondered if Billie and Corvo could be responsible. The interrogations executed by the other Overseers hadn't been as taxing as his, but the damage they did each day still quickly deteriorated my remaining health. It had taken another day for my voice to return after the initial questioning, and as soon as I was able to speak they cut my throat again to see if I'd break. I didn't, instead I passed out again. I'd been useless to them so far, and I wondered what they'd need a single name for. I'd been wracking my brain for answers, cursing myself for not studying the Eyeless more closely — wasn't I supposed to be privy to the world's darkest secrets?

No, I'd fought my hardest to forget about them instead. Now I found myself wanting to remember. Why did they need his name?

The Empress's attitude towards me had changed significantly, but I could tell she was still wary — I was wary too. She'd been observant enough to know my throat was still an open wound, a psychological wound at that. It had made her assault on me during our first night all the more frightening. She'd tried to hit me where it hurt the most — albeit with good reason — it unsettled me to think about. She'd outed that weakness. She'd taken the most vulnerable part of me, and bared it for the world to see. But in turn I'd allowed for her to be subjected to this, to be captured and sentenced. I had bitten my tongue, and I had watched as her name had been dragged through mud and blood. I had potentially ended her dynasty. If anything, it was abundantly clear we were on equal footing again, more than ever before — and that made me more uncomfortable than her cutting remarks or cruel retorts.

Her mere presence managed to touch upon long-lost fragments of myself, pieces of my past that now haunted my mind. Visions of days gone, of times no one else remembered. I'd carefully stowed those memories away, had locked them in the deepest, darkest corners of the Void. But sleeping — no, _existing_ — next to her, was like staring at snow for too long: it blinded you from your path, and likewise I was losing my destination. My goals, motivations, and convictions had been clear-cut for the last thousands of years, but she burned through them all until none of my icy powder remained and I was left in an uncontrollable puddle of what once had been. I'd known this. She'd been the first to hear about my sacrifice, the first I reached out to — touched, for the sake of touching. I'd been curious, I'd told myself; there had been no ulterior motive — no strange pull that begged me to get closer, to know her and let her know me... _That_ was the exact source of all my troubles: there was no more me, but her intoxicating presence whispered impossibilities, poisoned my mind with feelings and wants.

I wasn't allowed to want for anything, not anymore. But each time when push came to shove I found myself unable to resist: I wanted _her_ to _live_. I stood powerless against her influence, and now I'd been forced to simmer in the heat of her presence, the uncomfortable burn of her constant scrutiny. I'd been lying awake for a while now; another nightmare, I figured. I'd awoken the same way I had the night before, completely drenched in my own sweat and panting to compensate for my oxygen-starved lungs. She'd been right that first morning, although I didn't remember what I dreamed about, I was painfully aware how certain memories seemed to linger as if unearthed by something. I wondered if she too had been pulled from her sleep, again. She hadn't said anything about it, but I'd noticed her sleep deprived look this morning.

A rustle of fabric — she was moving. I could feel her eyes as they locked on my form, her stare burning holes into my back. I was cold, I realised, the sweat that drenched me had turned the surrounding atmosphere into ice. I hadn't been aware of my shivering, but it seemed she was. Another rustle followed by the creak of springs, was she going somewhere? Iron scratched against stone, and somehow I knew she was pushing her cot towards mine. My eyes flew open but I didn't turn to look. Instead I saw her shadow dance across the wall in front of me as she moved around, before lowering herself on her cot once more. Blood rushed up to my ears as the creaks neared me, my heartbeat accelerating. The press of a body: she rested her warm back against mine. I stiffened at the sensation, nerves sending shivers through my limbs and spine. She wiggled a bit before she settled, letting out a shuddery breath as her body stilled. I kept staring at the wall, my eyes unable to close and my lungs suddenly gone dysfunctional. She sensed my tension, and I could hear her head lift to glance at me from the corner of her eye. I held my breath, just as she held words to herself, thoughts that were loud enough to be tangible within the thin air of the room. I was frightened, I soon realised. Adrenaline shot through me like lightning — jolting my heart into further overdrive.

"Wyman was right... you know?" she whispered, her words gentle as they were carefully released from the soft cradle of her tongue.

 _Breathe. Calm yourself. Nothing was going to happen._

"I do lash out. At everyone." She paused, and I imagined her chewing her lip. "Whenever I get hurt, I yearn to hurt those responsible."

I could feel the way the sounds vibrated within her, the hot press of her back burning through my shirt, revealing the steady beat of her heart as well.

"' _All cutting words like the knives you obsess about,_ ' or something like that." A snort escaped her, but I could tell the gesture was disingenuous. "I pushed them away every chance I got, cut them down at every opportunity... as if I hoped for them to fail... Like the world had failed me all those years ago."

I shifted uncomfortably, seared by her presence. She'd helped rid me of the cold, but now the room felt ironically hot. She sighed, her body deflating against mine — accompanied by the sound of fabric rubbing fabric.

"Try and sleep, Mel."

My eyes darted across the wall, observing every bump and imperfection. How was I supposed to sleep with my heart nearly bursting from my chest? I rubbed my feet against each other in an attempt to calm myself, to relax my mind and frenzied body. The feeling of my own cool skin was soothing, somehow, the friction distracting me from my rambling thoughts. How could I get her to move away again without tempting her insatiable curiosity? I felt helpless — my inner monologue refusing to hand me any useful advice — and soon the heat simmered to a comfortable warmth, spreading through my core. I felt my eyes grow heavier, urged to close by the hypnotising rhythm of her calm breathing — and before I knew it, my consciousness slipped from the clutch of my frantic mind.

* * *

 _Tie it as tight as you can, until the flesh turns purple and starved. Use a strong knot, don't let it slip. Mind the flames, tend to the fire: let it die and all is for naught. Burn more wood, use the cinders. Cut as fast as you can, seal securely, then sweeten it up — golden sugar to keep safe, nourishment to fight the sick. We'll eat tomorrow._

 _Don't be afraid, a leak in the coast never desiccated the ocean. Don't mind the screams, keep going and the sooner they'll end._

 _There, purple enough, use the sharpest edge. Don't close your eyes, stay focused. Slice away the rot, purge the impurity. The ruinous needs to be cut, or the black will spoil the flesh. Keep going, think of the cinders. Your hands will clean again, don't worry, the skin won't stain. Yes... do what is asked. Finish the first, then on to the second._

 _Salvation spills from torn meat, severed muscle, serrated bone — nothing to fret about. I'll wake again, don't worry, let me rest my eyes for a bit. Is the bad gone?_

 _Am I clean?_

* * *

Sister Yadav didn't say anything when she found the Empress had moved our cots together. I'd awoken to my stomach purging itself until what little I'd eaten now covered the floor. She'd been standing there, cart parked next to her waiting figure, her ever watchful gaze directed at me. I could tell something was up — even with her eyes hidden, the tension in her gaze was palpable. A creak alerted me of the stirring Empress.

 _Purple flesh... Purple to purge the rot._

I'd never liked the colour black, had been frightened of the Void's darkness for a long time. Light the lanterns, colour them purple. Purple was safe — fight the black. Then she had come and cleansed the purple from my skin, had lit the candles and let the fire paint the walls amber and warm.

Food was offered, and I found my pale hand reaching for it on its own. The Empress moved near me, her weight causing the mattress to dip as she accepted the small plate as well. I watched Sister Yadav from the corner of my eye, the tasteless food trickling down the damaged walls of my throat — no magic could heal me from the cycle of daily abuse. I spotted movement beneath the thin stretch of skin at her temple, her jaw tensing ever so slightly — Sister Yadav was noticeably nervous. What would her eyes betray? Such a thing would be impossible to tell with the blindfold wrapped before them. No, she used different eyes to see... Another bite, more food rubbing against the damaged tissues within me. The Empress sat impossibly close, the warmth of her skin flaring against me. She was distracting me, filling my mind with unwelcome thoughts and stray tangents.

Focus.

Had Sokolov done his job? I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to regain my composure. Two Overseers stood at the door, guarding the exit like they always did when someone was in the room with us. I could see — feel — their gazes as they watched us disinterestedly. They'd grown bored after a few days, disappointed the Outsider wasn't as menacing as they'd expected him to be. On to Sister Yadav. My mind traveled the cold surface of the metal flooring, nearing the tense woman before us. Small feet wrapped in white boots, damaged soles from pacing. Warm hands — warm hand, warm what?

"Hey, are you okay?"

The Empress's voice rippled through me like a strong current, crashing straight into my mind. My eyes shot open, and I found the room to be much too bright for my sensitive pupils. I glanced down to catch her hand on my shoulder, suddenly aware of the wetness that tickled my chin.

"You weren't swallowing... your food, I mean," she spoke in a hesitant mumble, her hand gone from my shoulder as unexpectedly as it'd been put there.

I used the back of my sleeve to wipe my face, frowning, annoyed I'd let myself slip too much. My eyes found their way to Sister Yadav's face, noticing the way her lips pressed together a fraction too tight.

Cleansing came. The agonising music shrieked through my core, rubbing the tender spots of my tendons and bones until they felt as if they might crack beneath the sound. The wet slaps of towels being dragged across my skin bounced off the walls like a bird restlessly flapping its wings against the metal bars of its cage — its prison. I attempted to shut myself off from the surrounding noise, but the more I tried the more I became aware of each and every minute detail. Clothes were wrapped around my frame with a hastiness that felt deliberate. I stared down at the damaged floor with feigned disinterest, my mind carefully following their every move in an attempt to pick up anything that would indicate further unease. The only unease I could detect dripped off the Empress and clouded my senses with its dominating presence. I knew it was the water that had put her off again, always the water these days. She'd most likely carry this trauma with her forever.

We'd been returned to our cots when the Overseers surprised us by leaving, taking their cursed music with them. I could sense Sister Yadav's presence lingering behind the reinforced door, her hesitance evident in her actions. I held my breath in hopes of catching something, anything, that might help me understand. The Empress remained next to me, her wary gaze locked on the exit as if someone might still enter at any time. No one did. And as we both sat like statues, our still forms etched into the ever-watching iron walls, the actual passage of time was only hinted at by the melting wax of our single candle. No interrogation today. The usual pair of Overseers never came, and I was only vaguely aware of our dying light. Soon the fire would dissipate and darkness would wrap us in its greedy hold.

Could it be they no longer needed the name they'd so desperately tried to force from the grasp of my tongue?

The sound of a subtle creak startled me, drawing my gaze towards the Empress beside me. She was leaning forward, her face scrunched up in a concentrated frown, narrowed eyes stared intently at the windows up above. The room that lay behind was dark, as it had been for days now. With the absence of the High Overseer, no one had stared down on us for a while. I figured the Empress would be just as confused as me by the lack of torture, a thought that came easy enough for it to sting. However I doubted they'd be watching us, as I suspected the Empress might be thinking right now. Something else was up, something unrelated to us. I didn't know how I knew, perhaps Sister Yadav's strange behaviour had told me more than I'd initially thought. Or maybe it was the fact that some of the best living assassins would have been wreaking havoc up at Shindaery right around this time. Either way, something had managed to lift the Abbey's focus off of us, and I welcomed the unexpected relief.

I closed my eyes as I allowed my body to slump back down on the stiff mattress, startling the Empress with the sudden movement. I could try to catch some more sleep, give my mind a break from the agony that was my body, but I was certain my dreams wouldn't bring me any peace either. Our candle would die soon, and I wondered if the Overseers or Sisters would come to replace it. Chances were they wouldn't. I'd learned not to fear the dark through centuries of hard lessons — but with the Empress so close to me there was no telling what my weakened mind might subject me to.

The room was silent, and there was no actual way to tell what time of day it was. For the first time since our capture, I felt the isolation of our solitary confinement creep up on me. A strange sense of loss hung in the air between us, as if we'd both been freshly cut off from our lives, even though I'd hardly had a life to begin with. I wondered what it would be like to die — really die — this time. Would I join the tortured souls within the Void? Cursed to linger and wail in the eternal abyssal depths of empty torture? Or would my consciousness fade at last? I knew that all depended on one single factor, and that single thing lay in hands I couldn't control. If all went as I'd wanted it to — I'd gladly allow myself to sink into eternal slumber.

The Void was currently hungering, and it would choose a new representative to fill the gap left by me. In due time all would be restored, and the Empress would live on in a world unchanged. She might even marry someday, perhaps to Wyman. She would get to be happy, enjoy a rich number of years filled with the love and protection of her father… I didn't open my eyes at the subtle sound of movement next to me, expecting it to be the Empress hesitantly laying down as well. Our cots still stood side by side, the edges touching after she had pushed them together. I could feel the warmth that radiated off of her start to heat my skin once more.

Yes, she'd be happy again, someday. It was unlike myself to be optimistic, the world had shown me too much of its rotten core to allow for much, but I found these impossible thoughts seep into the corners of my mind as much as the warmth that teased my right arm. Perhaps these were the thoughts of a dying man, and it was my way of being sentimental. Perhaps I was actively bringing myself down again, reminding myself that such things — such a future — could never be mine. I blamed her presence for it all. Surely my ability to feel things, human things such as hope, had died aeons ago.

I was going to die.

8 more days of my miserable human existence and I'd be dead. Nothing would matter then, I wouldn't matter anymore. I'd be nothing but a dirty little secret, a shameful part of human history. The Abbey would find a new subject to use and abuse for their fear-mongering. Such institutions always did. The Empress would move on, disappointed in herself for her temporary lapse of judgement — and the people would forgive her for it, eventually. My title would fade from their minds, to be recalled only by dusty books that retold a history seldom repeated by the common folk.

What had I even hoped to gain?

Maybe it had been another taste of the real thing, the real world... I'd fooled them all, but most of all I'd fooled myself. Lurk had been an idiot to think she could make me keep any promises — my voice was made up of nothing but the echoes of lies. Selfish. All selfish. As I'd always been, all my fault.

3 more days, more for me.

If I was to find peace then I had to play along. This was a game after all, but her presence made it very hard for me to commit to it. I couldn't force from my mind the soft breaths she took, the air that flowed through her lungs as she rested beside me. I fought the part of my mind that imagined the rise of her ribs, the way her skin would stretch across muscle and bone, across the beating of her living heart. I had been surrounded by the dead, and now I'd been ripped from my shelter of souls to find myself amongst the living, who wished me dead all the same. The air was contaminated with her, and each breath I took exhumed me further from my coffin of lies — but I had no interest in such a fate, no desire to chase broken dreams and doomed sentiments. I had watched too many suffer and perish, had seen too much blood spill from the innocent and soak the earth red. Witnessed too many children weep as they vomited their lives away onto the anguish-stricken streets. I had observed the people with unseeing eyes and a lying mind, and I had done _nothing_.

My redemption lay in nothing but my own rotten corpse — so rot it would.

"That day... your cheek was bruised," her voice was fragile as it broke through the silence. "What did you tell my father?"

I opened my eyes to look at her, only to discover our candle had died sooner than I'd expected — or perhaps more time had passed than I was aware of. An eerie silence filled the room, the woman next to me covered in a veil of black. I could make out the steady beat of her heart, accompanied by the distant ambience of Overseers moving through the building. I found my lips unmoving as my eyes continued to stare.

"Please Mel... I'll be gone soon." She spoke as if that small piece of information might yet salvage something. I knew it wouldn't.

My lips parted as the words hung between them, stuck on the tip of my tongue. I was a prison of lives lived and lost, of knowledge wasted on most. "You shouldn't hear it from me," I managed to croak. It was the first time I'd used my voice that day.

She seemed taken aback for a moment, the silence growing heavier before she spoke once more. "I'll never see my father again."

An unpleasant feeling grasped me, pushing down on my chest. I was an idiot.

"Why are you doing this?" The mattress creaked beneath her as she turned towards me, her breath now tickling my cheek. My heartbeat accelerated, and I could feel the hairs on my skin rise in response to her nearness.

"Doing what?" I sounded old and weak to my own ears.

She held her breath, my skin quickly growing cold without it. "Pretending." She released the word as if afraid it might die without her to hold onto it. My eyes searched for her still, but only caught sight of more darkness.

 _Light the lanterns, and he will come. Colour them purple to tempt his tongue._

"To be innocent?" I countered her question, and I knew I had hit a sore spot when she winced ever so softly.

"You know that's not what I-" She was quick to defend herself, and I cut her off before she could finish whatever she was going to say.

"Do I?" I could feel the air around me start to crackle, charged by a strange electricity.

"Mel..." She breathed painfully.

"That's not my name." Something had taken a hold of my heart and had started constricting the organ within vine-like fingers, squeezing it until I wasn't sure it could keep on beating anymore.

She had fallen silent for a moment, but I could feel her gaze trail my features within the darkness. "Your eyes still glow."

I swallowed something bitter at her words, remnants of moonlight and a white nightgown beneath my fingertips. "Don't, Empress."

She ignored the words, her voice only growing steadier as she continued on. "Do you know what it's like? To lose family?"

Another vine lurched from somewhere within me and wrapped its tendrils around the beating organ that pushed against my ribs — my pulsating heart that seemed unbothered by the increasing tightness that wound its way around it.

 _The skin won't stain..._

"No," I spoke with absolute finality, and I felt my heart stutter as it whined beneath the painful grip that tore into it, the ice that had crept up my spine now caused every hair on my body to stand up — as if pulled from me by the strange, yet delicious static that lapped up every inch of my skin. I sensed her crumbling resolve, her disappointed silence. Good. It was all for her- no, _my_ own good.

She turned away from me again, her cot creaking beneath her twisting body once more. Silence took over and wrapped us in its suffocating presence, the short conversation weighing heavily on me. My mind replayed the way she had spoken the words, the unmistakable traces of vulnerability in her voice. There was a new kind of hurt within me, and I didn't dare acknowledge its existence or its cause. I willed myself to be angry instead — angry at humanity, angry at myself. I could sense the building quieting down already, announcing the death of another day, another day wasted. Meaningless.

* * *

 _They came spewing prophecies; rediscovered truths and long lost beliefs. Above all they promised prosperity, wealth, and nourishment for the starving. They would save our dying town, our damned gathering of beggars and thieves — kept poor by pretentious samaritans. They marched the cobbled streets in robes of virgin white, holding banners and preaching sacred texts. Soon they built a chapel, a safe haven for many in these barren lands._

 _The Eyeless, they called themselves; claiming they were blind to the newly proposed beyond. They spoke of said beyond, the Void — they warned us of the eternal darkness that mirrored our dimension, swallowed it piece by piece. The end was coming, a dark storm would brew. At first most were sceptical, the people here had been hardened by the ruthless environment they inhabited. But as time passed and the world around them changed, so did their minds, one by one. Darkness had come early, and most of them hadn't been prepared. Rations were currently too scarce to deal with the shadow months, and some were considering setting sail to more welcoming lands to spend the winter — perhaps the rest of their lives._

 _It all spiralled further down once the fish began dying, hundreds of them piling up along the shores, the acrid stench of rot making it impossible to go near them without losing consciousness. Those who'd already made it out had been the lucky ones, the rest were stuck here, the surrounding terrain impossible to traverse by foot. Those who hadn't yet fallen into despair turned to the Eyeless, clutching the fabric of their robes within their bony fingers, begging for salvation. The dead were piling up in the streets, their belongings stolen from their bodies. Sometimes they didn't care whether you were dead or not, they'd take your boots and pelts either way. The only place that offered any protection, any form of safety, was the chapel. The sick gathered there, seeking shelter and provisions — they always left dressed in robes of virgin white._

* * *

The only way we were able to tell the arrival of morning was due to the daily drone of Strictures. The Overseers were gathered within the building, repeating their gospel until the sentences became indistinguishable from one another. Their voices were like static, merging with the natural acoustic of the architecture until they became part of the structure itself.

I'd searched the room for water, and had been lucky to find the hose despite the darkness. I made sure she'd gotten her share, unable to tell how she felt about it without being able to see her. After that we continued our silence, the background noise of the building the only thing to keep us occupied in the darkness. After a while I found all sounds became impossible to recognise, twisted too much by the boredom of my own mind. Whenever I closed my eyes I'd be plagued with the visions from my dreams, dead memories. I was crumbling from the inside, my organs gripped by invisible vices. Breathing became more of a challenge the longer I spent within the suffocating darkness, the air becoming increasingly thick.

"Do you remember your name?" A careful whisper, a question wrapped in delicate silk — words that violently ripped through me nonetheless. "You're to be executed, you might as well tell someone." She breathed the words with such delicacy that I wasn't even sure if she had said anything at all. Perhaps she hadn't, and it was my mind playing wishful tricks on me, twisting the ambience into voices — into more torture.

My lips parted to allow a shuddery breath to pass their hold, my tongue darting out to wet them. Every sound I made was deafening, my heart beating like an ancient drum and filling the room with its song. She was right, I was going to die soon. The growing torment within me made it hard to hold on to my anger. These would be my final passing moments; the final memories of my existence would consist of darkness and hushed voices. There was a small crack within me, a leak in the coast... I felt the coolness that pooled out of it and wrapped itself around my bones. I thought of the chorus consisting of nothing but my name, the beckoning call that begged for me to come. The sound of it had raised the hairs on my arms along with countless questions I realised I would never be able to answer. There would be no more answers.

When the words left my mouth I found myself wondering if I'd actually spoken them out loud — but I knew the strange and foreign vibrations that tickled my throat were unmistakable. "The waves whisper to me with each foam-filled breath — constant carriers of the songs sung beneath their sheltering cover."

I could sense the Empress leaning in. "What does that mean?" she whispered, the sound made hollow by the iron walls.

I hesitated, allowing the ice to climb up my limbs and take hold of my entrails as I forced myself to accept the truth. "I don't know..." I finally admitted, and the words washed over me and tore at my skin, my limbs — painful. "I don't know," I repeated, as if testing the water... One toe at a time. I felt myself sink away, dragged further down with each admission. I was a drowning man gasping for air, for life. This was something I would never know — a call consisting of a long forgotten name that would never be answered or explained.

Her hands found me and held onto me in the darkness, her delicate fingers wrapping around my arms. I realised I hated her, her and everything she stood for. I hated the way her eyes would light up whenever they caught sight of her father, or how they would darken at the slightest mention of her mother. I hated that she had made me want to watch these things and more. Had lured me into her life and had made it impossible for me to turn away. Had made me want to know exactly what made her happy and unhappy all at the same time.

"I never wanted to die." I found myself whispering back, my voice strange and shaking, my mind screaming at me to shut up.

Her grip tightened, and I knew it was of no accident, but I was currently beyond caring — I was on my deathbed, only a few more days were left. I was tired, exhausted even though we'd been laying there for hours now, doing nothing.

"Then live." She sounded so small then, as if all her hope had been bundled up into that tiny statement — she was still trying to poke through me, to see whether she'd really been fooled or not. She still believed I could be a good person, deep down.

"I can't." The words were empty, and I could feel them crumble beneath the walls I carefully erected once more. Her grip faltered, her fingers growing weaker the more the words sunk in. A silence fell between us again, the surrounding structure that housed our captors growing quieter the longer we laid there. We were two vessels, headed in different directions. She would be swept away as I crashed against the coast, my woodwork smashed to pieces.

Her grip tightened again, her fingers pulling at my arms, lifting herself up until hers caged me in an empty embrace. "You say that as if you have no choice — we always have a choice."

My heart lost all control as she rested her head against my chest, strands of hair tickling my jaw. I wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that no one had ever actually been that close to me, or that she had now chosen to do so in the face of her own demise. "Did Jessamine have a choice?" I heard myself asking, and I knew it was the bitterness in me speaking, the hardened pain that had festered with each new disappointment.

"Outsider... You and I aren't very different." She paused, and I felt the blood rise to my head as she continued to lay there. "We hurt those that hurt us with weapons of our own choosing."

"I'm not hurt." But as soon as the words were out I knew the contrary was made painfully obvious by the damning beat of my heart. She was doing it again — again. "Stop it."

A few more days.

She carefully wrapped her arms further around my torso, her cheek digging into my chest. "I'm sorry." Her voice cracked ever so slightly, almost as if she meant it.

"For what?" The words escaped me, spilling through the tears.

 _Don't be afraid, a leak in the coast never desiccated the ocean._

"You must think very lowly of yourself." I could feel the words as they vibrated against my chest.

"I don't think anything." I was confused, a feeling all too familiar when in her presence. So I held on to what I knew, what was common. She was using me again, for what I didn't yet understand.

"Your heart tells me otherwise." I felt a shudder pass through me, her breath caressing my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt.

"Let me go." I was vaguely aware of the nagging voice at the back of my mind that told me I shouldn't be held, not like this, not by her.

She was silent for a moment, her ear still pressed tightly against me, almost as if she was attempting to hear my innermost thoughts. I felt dazed, and I suddenly noticed the subtle trembling of my hands. She let out a secretive sigh, barely noticeable, before she released me from her embrace and returned to her own cot. My body was exposed to the shocking cold of the room once more, and it hit me with its uncaring chill within seconds — almost like coming home.

I lay there, my body quickly cooling down without the comfortable warmth of another. I knew it'd only get colder, month of Darkness was quickly approaching — but somehow this cold was different, it felt empty.

"You're scared." I could hear her mumble beneath her breath, her voice coming from far away. The words sent an unusual sensation through me, causing every muscle in my body to tense up.

"I don-"

"You don't understand," She cut me off, and I felt myself freeze even further, my breath stuck in my throat, painful. "Which is why I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes, closed my mind from her strange ramblings — her poisonous presence. I was weak. I had always been weak — weak enough to miss the feeling of her arms as soon as she'd released me.

* * *

 _I knew without looking that I'd been spotted, their nauseating gazes burned into the unfamiliar place I had found myself in._

 _Shit._

 _This wasn't the time to panic, I had to move. If I was to get away then I had to escape first. There was still time. My eyes searched my surroundings for a way out, a way to stay out of sight. My heart flooded my system with adrenaline, every fiber of my being now on high alert — I almost forgot about the ice that bit into the bare skin of my feet, or my stomach that had been empty for days now._

 _There! A gap between two buildings, just wide enough for me to fit through. My breath left a trail of steam behind me as I moved as silently as I could, the snow crunching with every inch I crawled. They were coming, probably thinking I didn't know they approached — didn't know they were coming for me. I'd heard it all, had seen their nauseating plans laid bare before my eyes; but I couldn't think of them, lest I freak out. I held my breath, my ears straining to pick up each and every sound. I perched myself up until I was narrow enough to fit myself through the crevice in front of me. For the first time I felt lucky to be skinny, my bony frame pushing against the sturdy brickwork as I forced my way forward. I loathed the ice as it bit into my skin, the cold progressively eating away at my feet._

 _Step by step, I continued to make my way, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I could see the light at the end of the passage, the flickering of candles burning in the streets. Darkness had taken a hold of the land for weeks now, unusually early for this time of the year, forcing the village to burn through their rations of whale fat in a frightening pace. The people were despairing, and if what I had learned was true… I was to be the solution. I felt a shudder wrack through me as I bit down on my lip in concentration, attempting to distract myself from my hurting feet. I heard their voices as they most likely discovered I'd disappeared, his voice undeniably present within the chorus._

 _No… This couldn't be right… He wouldn't. I was sure of it. It had all been a mistake, we'd sort it out. Before me I saw the passing shadows of people as they walked through the streets, unaware of my presence. Just a few more steps and I'd be free, we'd run away — or at least I'd find a way to. We'd go somewhere safe, build a better life there. Something we should have done years ago. We could sail away, live somewhere warm and no longer worry about the deadly cold. I could try to find a job, then we wouldn't have to beg anymore. Yes, that was it, we'd be happy, this was our chance at happiness. One more step, just one more._

* * *

When I opened my eyes the room was still dark, making it impossible for me to see. It took me a while to realise the Empress had pressed her back against mine again, a comfortable warmth surrounding me. Somehow I knew she was awake, even though I had no way of telling. Another day come and gone, time continued to slip by me, our final moments creeping closer. In my mind I could still picture the snow covered streets, the agonising cold. I'd been so young...

"I did have family." Something inside of me shifted into place as I spoke the words, a strange and unreal feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as I acknowledged their existence for the first time in centuries. "Sort of..." I felt her tense up against me, holding her breath. I waited for her to say something, unsure what to do with myself now that I'd revealed something so personal.

She inhaled sharply, her back curling, digging into mine. "We really are dying... aren't we?"

"Emily..." I started, but I didn't even know what I was going to say. So we lay there in silence, two beating hearts the only indicators of life within the sea of black. How much time had passed exactly? My stomach felt empty, my gut close to eating itself. Chances were we'd get no more food at all. We had free access to water, which was the only thing our bodies truly needed to survive the week. If they'd given up on our interrogation, they most likely didn't see the point in feeding us anymore — it was a waste of resources, we'd be dead soon anyway.

"Would you hold me?" Her voice was frail, devoid of the defiance that usually coloured her tone, like the smouldering remnants of a dead fire.

I felt taken aback by her request, my heart skipping a beat at the thought, unable to comprehend why she would want me to in the first place. "Why?"

She appeared to be testing the words in her mind, her silence leaving me apprehensive of whatever she was about to say. I could feel her shift against me, her hands fumbling with something. My heart felt unnaturally heavy, its beat filling my throat and making me lightheaded. "I'm scared too."

My mind exploded with reasons why I shouldn't, why it'd be selfish of me even though she had asked for it, why I didn't deserve it, why she couldn't possibly mean it. "I can't." The words stung for some reason, leaving a bitter taste in their wake, the vices that had been there for days tightened even further.

She was quiet for a while, and I realised it had gone truly silent within the building, indicating it had to be night. "What if I commanded you to? As Empress?"

She surprised me again. I felt something tug at the corners of my lips, and I realised I was amused by her words. "An Empress cannot command the Outsider."

She was quick to refute my argument. "But you're not the Outsider anymore, and I'm no longer an Empress. So I'm asking you, the person I have to share my cell with."

I contemplated her argument, almost annoyed that she insisted I was a person still. It made me uncomfortable, like ill-fitted clothes. There was a disconnect in my mind, a wall that shielded me from humanity. There was no going back to what I once was, I had lost that innocence. Yet I still felt compelled to turn towards her, my movements stiff and unsure, my pulse almost deafening me. I knew I'd tell myself I did it for her, this was her request, but at the same time I felt as if I was taking something, claiming things that weren't meant to be mine — selfish.

I lifted my arm in the darkness, and somehow she knew instantly, her body responding by pressing into mine. I was overwhelmed by the way she moulded against me, the warmth of her curling up against my abdomen and fitting into place like the piece of a puzzle — like a piece of me. Her scent filled the air around me, her head fitting into the crook of my neck, making me realise how much smaller she was than me. I allowed my arm to go back down, resting it around her waist. I knew she'd be able to feel the way my heart was about to burst from my chest, but I realised it really wouldn't matter if she noticed, not anymore. The electricity that surged through me was close to paralysing, warming every inch of my body, dizzying me with its intensity. She was fuelling a fire within me that melted away the ice streaming through my veins, undid the tightness that had clutched my heart, my innards.

"You saved me twice, from Delilah," she started, and I closed my eyes at the feel of her voice against my chest. "Why?"

I didn't know why, but for the first time in a long time, I felt sad instead of bitter or angry. Maybe it was because I only had a week left to live, or maybe it was because of the way she so easily filled an emptiness within me that had been there for as long as I could remember.

"I can't talk about it." There was an unmistakable crack in my voice, but I couldn't bring myself to feel ashamed about it. She tangled her legs around mine, burrowing into me as if I could shelter her from our situation, her worries. She didn't press the question, and I was grateful for that. Instead she pulled my arm further around her, until my hand rested against her chest, her heart beating beneath my palm. My fingers touched her collarbone, and I found myself mindlessly tracing it.

"I find it so hard to imagine that you and I should have never been able to meet, that you were born thousands of years ago..." she paused, taking a small breath before finishing her thought, "I can't imagine my life without your presence."

"Without the cults and witches?"

"No. Without you forcefully dragging me into the Void." There was a teasing tone in her voice, and I couldn't help but be amused.

"Thank you," I heard myself say without really knowing why, but she seemed to understand nonetheless.

A silence fell between us, but for once it wasn't loaded or uncomfortable. Instead I felt myself become calm, my body relaxing more the longer we lay there, even more so than when she'd rested against my back. I took a deep breath, and relished the way my chest pushed up against her and brought me closer, my heart swelling with something strange. I noticed how her breathing was starting to slow, and I allowed my own to match her rhythm until I felt the familiar weight of sleep drag me down into its hold.

* * *

 _They'd followed me, somehow. I could feel the sting of bile at the back of my throat as my entire body went numb, my skin growing cold and feverish as fear caused me to break out in sweat. I could hear them around the corner, could hear how the snow cracked beneath their boots — his voice unmistakable._

 _No._

 _No, this couldn't be. We couldn't run... We had nowhere to run. A whimper from beneath, a broken body long cut to pieces. I scanned the walls, searched each and every corner; no way out. A call, and the whimpers ceased — pale eyes opened but couldn't quite see what was going on. Lips parted and gasped for words, gasped for answers. But I stood helplessly. Damned. Soon they would find us here — they would come to take me away._

 _Think. It couldn't end like this._

 _My eyes scanned the walls again, searched the ground. Nowhere to hide, nothing to hide with. It was pointless. I'd made a big mistake. No... no, no, no, no, no, no! Again, look again. The voices grew louder from behind the surrounding brickwork, called for me; it was my name that fell from familiar lips. Like lies. Shadows stretched their way across dirtied snow; sludge-like after being trampled again and again._

 _Time stopped, and I felt myself freeze as I came face to face with him, his hand clasped around the hilt of a strange blade. The flames of our fire reflected off the metal, glinting ferociously and blinding me with its shine. I felt my senses fade as I watched it all unfold in front of me, my body frozen in place. I couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe that this could happen to me... to... I was helpless as I witnessed the horror, as I fought to force myself into motion, to try and stop it. But I was too weak, too small to do anything. I'd led them here, I'd done this._

 _The snow was soaked red as blood blossomed through the milky powder. Life faded from widened eyes and torn skin turned purple, dead — I realised I never should have tried to run. This was my fault. I'd tried to outsmart the Void, and it had punished me for fighting back. I'd been naive enough to think anything could change, that we could have been happy someday — that I could have been happy. Selfish. There wouldn't be a someday anymore. There would be no more days at all. All because I'd been selfish._

 _All my fault._

* * *

She was there still when I awoke in a panic, her slender frame wrapped tightly in my arms, as if that would keep me from going completely under. She was my lifeline, my sanity — or humanity more like. She didn't try to escape my hold as I fought to control my breathing. The images of my dream had been burned into my mind, the darkness of the room dancing with the remnants — pools of blood. I knew I had banned the events from my memory, had locked it all up and had tried my best to forget about it. But the more I tried, the more the world showed me its reality, the echoes of my past always present within every soul I came upon; suffering was as much part of the human condition as breathing. The cruellest reminder of them all was now my only comfort as I tried my best to process the ancient torment I'd relived mere moments ago, my arms crushing her against me.

In the distance I could hear the Overseers as they patrolled the building, their boots thumping against the marble floors. Another day, our final hours. The thought made me want to hold onto her even tighter, but I knew I shouldn't, it wasn't right. I'd already broken each and every promise I'd made myself, had done exactly what I'd told myself not to do. I'd pay for this, there'd be a price for this kind of selfishness. There had always been a price. Slowly but surely I was able to calm myself, my breathing becoming more controlled and my heartbeat steadily less erratic.

"Are you okay?" I heard her whisper from beneath, her body unmoving within my hold.

I couldn't bring myself to answer, didn't want to hear the sound of my own voice. I rather pretended I wasn't quite there, that it wasn't me who used her for comfort. Instead I nodded, and she seemed to pick up on the gesture. She didn't ask another question just yet, allowing me to come back to my senses in silence. I softened my grasp, taking another deep breath before forcing my body to relax. Somehow her scent helped, and I couldn't resist resting my cheek on the crown of her head, ignoring the part of me that scolded myself for my self-indulgence. The panic I had felt in my dreams still lingered, stuck to me like honey, but I was able to ignore the unpleasant feeling that clung to my insides — I separated my mind from my body. I realised I was thirsty, but I didn't dare release the Empress from my arms, in case she might not want to come back again. After a while I was calm enough to think clearly, and I wondered if she'd been awake for long. I knew I needed to hear something other than my own thoughts if I was to remain remotely sane, so I thought of ways to pass the time, to distract myself from my overly active mind.

"Did you have any plans for the future?" For the first time I was the one asking personal questions, and it kind of scared me for a vast number of reasons; one of them being that I genuinely wanted to know.

"Am I hearing this right? The Outsider wants to know about some Empress's future dreams?" She teased, and I was grateful she couldn't see the beginnings of a smile that tugged at my lips.

"I just want to know exactly what I ruined."

I was surprised when her heel connected with my shin, the mocking gesture sending a shock through me and causing me to gasp. "That's dark," She protested, her fake accusatory tone revealing she was aware I hadn't been serious. She stayed silent for a moment, holding her breath as she appeared to be mulling over my question. "To be completely honest I never truly gave my future much serious thought... I was always too busy figuring out the present, fulfilling my duties as Empress."

I frowned. "Too busy, or too scared of possible disappointment?"

She winced at my observation, letting me know I hit a particularly sore spot. "For someone who insists they're not human, you sure do know your human psychology."

I allowed a bitter smile as I further nestled my cheek into the softness of her hair. "Yeah..."

She didn't mention my behaviour, and I was grateful for that. "I..." She abruptly halted her sentence, at a momentary loss for words as she searched her mind. "I always wanted to be a painter, like Sokolov..." she paused again, "like Delilah."

"It's not forbidden for Empresses to paint." I offered, knowing how much she'd loved it.

"It's a waste of time. I shouldn't be painting landscapes when my people are suffering..." she sighed, her body shifting in my hold to get more comfortable. I could tell she wanted to say more, the words hanging in the air between us. "I would have loved to have a daughter." The admission surprised me, I had never taken her to be the motherly type, yet somehow it made sense. "What about you?"

I stiffened at the question. "If I wanted a daughter?"

The Empress laughed at that, the vibrations bubbling through my chest, filling my veins with air. "No, I mean if you had any plans, you know, before you died."

"Oh..." My fingers found the collar of her shirt and started playing with the material, "I don't really think so." I was lying, and for some reason I felt bad about it. I bit my tongue for a moment, forcing myself to think of a better answer. "I mean, I wanted to go someplace warm." I corrected, but the admission only served to make me nervous for some reason. "It's not as if it's really relevant anymore." I was rambling, urged on by anxiety, and I bit my tongue again in an attempt to make me shut up.

The Empress made an agreeing sound, her head moving beneath my chin. "If you could make plans now, what would you want?"

My heartbeat quickened at the question, my skin warming. What I wanted? My lips parted to allow a shaky breath as I tried to control my nerves, but knowing that she would be highly aware of my emotions only made it worse.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to..." She added quickly, probably in response to my silence.

"No, I..." I would have slapped myself if I hadn't looked like an idiot for doing so, "I mean, I never thought about it."

"Too depressing?" She guessed, and I hated myself for shrugging in response.

I was the Outsider, the former representative of the Void. People wasted their lives away in hopes of catching a glimpse of me — sacrificed their closest friends, and performed the strangest rituals. I spoke to few, and if I did I often drove them crazy with my cryptic offerings. Talking was something I was supposed to be good at, it was the only thing I ever did. But the words, my language, had momentarily abandoned me as I lay there with the Empress cradled within my arms. And instead of words my throat was filled with nothing but my own boiling blood, my veins dancing to the rhythm of my pulse. A forbidden voice told me exactly what I wanted, but I had learned to be wary of its deceit — lies and ill-fated promises. I stared into the darkness, the layout of the actual room close to forgotten. In my mind I envisioned myself on a cliff, my feet bordering the edge. One step forward and I'd fall down the depths of no return. But instead I swallowed it all, pushed down the remnants of me, the dead one, the foolish one.

"There has to be something that would make you happy?" She was being careful now, her voice turned soft and reassuring.

I didn't know what that was supposed to feel like, it all seemed superficial to me. "I don't think I'm capable of happiness anymore."

She shifted again, turning her head upwards as if she might be able to see me that way, her hair moving beneath my chin. "Just think of the thing that would be the least unhappy."

One week left, a few hours together — the desperate feeling that filled me was suffocating. "I think this comes close." I admitted, almost casually, fairly certain my heart could stop any second.

Emily didn't respond right away, and I had to fight the part of me that wished to disappear. "Imprisonment?" She sounded puzzled, unaware of my discomfort.

"No," I licked my lips, closed my eyes to try and partly shut myself off. "I mean not being alone." That sounded even more awful than I had imagined it to. I'd been willingly alone for centuries, if anything I only made myself look hypocritical. What was wrong with me? "I mean, being alone is fine, I like being alone." That was worse, I'd made it worse.

"No one truly likes being alone all the time…" Emily suddenly moved within my hold, turning around to face me in the darkness, her legs still intertwined with mine. "Would you have wanted to get married?" She was being curious again, sensing my willingness to open up at last, and I swore I could see the shine in her eyes as they searched for me.

I swallowed something heavy at the thought. "I don't know. I don't see myself that way."

"What way?"

I paused, my lips parted as if momentarily frozen in the moment. My ears were full of echoes, filled with static. "Alive."

"But you're alive right now." Her hand managed to find my chest, coming to rest on the space above my heart, fingers splayed and palm down.

I was acutely aware of the way my heart skipped several beats, knowing she would be able to tell right away. "It takes more than a heartbeat to be alive." I wasn't sure why my voice had dropped the way it did, my usual baritone pitch gone down to a fragile whisper.

I heard her move her head, and I knew instantaneously that she had come closer. "Why are you so afraid of living?" She was whispering, the words caressing my cheek.

Only a few hours left, would I have any regrets? "Same reason most are afraid of dying."

She inched closer, her body almost touching mine again. "What will happen… once I die?" she breathed, her fingers curling against me.

I lifted my arm, taking hold of the hand she'd put against my chest, my fingers wrapping around the delicate limb. I realised I regretted all the things I hadn't said, words forever lost, irrelevant. "Don't worry about it." My other hand travelled towards her face, my fingertips finding and tracing the soft skin there, her sharp cheekbones and smooth jawline. My mind filled in the blanks for me, recalled every detail of the woman that rested in front of me. "There's something I want to tell you," I hesitated, and I sensed her anticipation, her body pressing against mine, our legs and fingers intertwined. I was feeling breathless, high on something I couldn't figure out. Within the darkness her features lit up, and I wondered if my imagination was playing tricks on me. Her amber eyes locked with mine, her lips parted as she waited for me to continue with baited breath. "My name…" I whispered, my palm cupping the side of her face, bringing it closer, our noses touching. A thousand years passed me by, flashed before my eyes, yet all I could see was her, all I could do was lay there within the golden warmth of her gaze.

"Emily!" A voice came from behind and ripped us from of our delusional bubble, tore down the imaginary walls that had momentarily sheltered us from the world. My stomach twisted at the sound, my eyes widening once I realised why I'd been able to see the Empress in front of me in the first place, the flicker of candlelight now unmistakable.

Her head whipped towards the source of the sound, her gaze filled with both shock and relief. I felt frozen into place, my mind conflicted and my heart slowing beneath the crushing weight that had started pushing down on it.

Turned out, Sokolov had understood perfectly.


	10. Dive — part 1

Everything happened in slow motion, the shock that took over her expression unfolding right before my eyes. One moment she had been wrapped in my arms, the next she was scrambling to get away, running towards our visitors in desperation. The flickering fire of a candle defined the sharp edges of her features, lines of light finding their way into the very depths of her eyes as they flitted between the two people in disbelief. There, behind the bars that separated us from the remaining space of our prison, stood her childhood mentor, her friend.

"Callista?" The Empress's voice was rough, cracking under the sudden flood of emotions, her body trembling and her fingers hesitantly wrapping around the cold bars in front of her.

Next to a very tense Callista stood a horrified Sister Yadav, mouth agape and fingers clutching a familiar music box that hung strapped around her neck, other hand wrapped around a small lantern. I could tell she was looking at me, as was the woman next to her; Callista pinned me with hateful eyes.

"How?" The Empress breathed, as if she couldn't quite believe this to be real.

Callista's gaze shot towards my companion immediately, her expression softening. "Emily dear!" She approached the downtrodden Empress, a tortured frown on her face. "Sokolov wrote to me. I came as soon as I could." She paused, eyes darting to the other woman. "I've known Sister Yadav for a very long time. ...I convinced her of your innocence." She hesitated, gaze flicking between me and her former student. "...However now I'm not too sure myself..."

Sister Yadav stepped in, ignoring my presence as she spoke to Emily directly. "You were so brash with the Outsider, it seemed impossible to me that the two of you could truly be lovers... I… I really wanted to have faith in you, Empress, I wanted to believe in your innocence."

It didn't take a Sokolov to tell the two of them had been put off by what they'd just witnessed; the Empress in the arms of a monster. This made things far more complicated than I had hoped they would be.

The Empress stared at the two women questioningly. "And Sokolov just so happened to write you… a friend of Sister Yadav… who coincidentally works here," she mused out loud, a frown pulling her eyebrows together, her gaze switching to me. "You did this, didn't you? You knew all along."

I raised myself into a seated position, eyes locked with the Empress's, my mind fighting the rampage of emotion that took place inside of me as I prepared myself to act according to plan, banishing the feel of her skin against mine from my mind. "I didn't do anything."

"Bullshit!"

"Lady Emily!" Callista gasped at the foul language.

"This is why you kept telling me not to worry, isn't it? Why you accepted it all?" The hopeful shine in her gaze was enough to tear me apart from the inside out. Why? Why did she continue to insist I be anything other than a curse on this earth?

"Come, Your Majesty," Sister Yadav urged the Empress as she held open the gate, keys glinting in the candlelight.

The Empress's gaze flicked between me and the exit, waiting for me to answer her. But I wasn't going to. Instead I watched her with forced indifference. She hesitated, eyes searching mine for a glimpse of the man who had held her only minutes ago. I knew she wouldn't find him — not anymore, I made sure of that — and I watched the hopeful flicker in her gaze die out slowly. Disappointed at my passiveness, the Empress turned towards Sister Yadav who awaited her, marching over to the exit in silence. Callista eagerly welcomed her in her expecting arms, whispering reassurances into the Empress's hair. I didn't move as Sister Yadav closed the gate again, locking it silently, her burning glare never leaving me.

"I thought I'd never see any of you again." I couldn't see the Empress's face, but her voice betrayed enough emotion for me to paint a clear picture of her expression, and it hurt me to know I was responsible for all this — wherever I went, suffering and death always followed.

"Ssh, Lady Emily, it's alright. We'll set this straight again, I promise," Callista comforted the woman in her arms, and for a brief moment I was reminded of the two of them, 15 years ago at the Hounds Pits Pub. "We'll get you home." She'd said those same words then, and she'd stuck to them — hopefully she'd stick to them again.

"But how? The people won't accept me..." She stiffened before she turned around, her eyes locking with mine. "Why is he still in there? Mel?" Emily wrestled herself free from Callista's arms, only to be pulled back by the elder.

"We're not taking the Outsider with us, Lady Emily. You as Empress should understand." Callista's voice was loaded with warning, and I didn't miss the judgemental undertone.

Emily fought off the protective hands that restrained her, grasping the bars that separated us, her expression hardening. "I won't leave you behind," she assured me, before fully turning to Sister Yadav, her posture straight and ever as regal. "Let him out, or I won't come." It was a demand, one loaded with the kind of authority only an Empress could muster.

"Emily! I can't believe this!" Callista stepped forward, again attempting to pull the Empress away from the bars, away from me. "He's the Outsider, he cannot be trusted." Her voice dropped, "he's the one responsible for all this. You'd do well to remember such things."

The Empress was about to protest again when I stood from the cot, the place we'd just spent our final moments, slowly approaching the desperate girl now separated from me by hard metal bars. "I've had my fun with you." I cocked my head, watching her uncaringly. "Turns out you're not all that that interesting." From the corner of my eye I noticed the way Callista's expression tensed, eyebrows pulling together and lips pressing into a tight line. "Listen to your friends, Empress."

"I don't believe you. I'm not leaving." The words were spoken with such conviction that I couldn't help but believe her, even though I knew she'd have to go, no matter what she wanted. The only other option was death.

"Your Majesty, we only have a short amount of time, we have to go now or else we won't make it out before the guards return." It was Sister Yadav who tried to change her mind, but I could tell from the Empress's gaze that she wasn't about to give up — not without a fight.

"He comes, or none of us go." Her eyes burned into mine, her stare resolute, and I knew in that instant that she was going to do something incredibly stupid. My gaze flicked towards the woman who held her, Callista, who seemed just as unsure as I was at that moment, then towards the Sister who still tried to convince the Empress to cooperate quickly. I had not missed the intake of breath that filled her lungs, the challenging expression she wore. One sound and the guards would come barging in, one scream from her and she could possibly expose us all. Time slowed to a halt before my eyes met the Empress's again, the fierce flicker of candlelight reflected within those amber depths, and for a moment I swore I felt myself drown within the violent tilt of those golden waves.

Her lips parted, and my heart stopped. Within me I felt the uncontrolled electrical charge of Sokolov's whale oil ignite all throughout my veins. The room lit up around me, sparks whipping against polished metal and hissing with each blow. Her scream tore through me, and I had to close my eyes to shield them from the bright flashes that erupted from beneath my flesh. I was cognisant enough to notice the horrified gasps of the other two women, but I knew this was the only way, her last damned chance. I leapt, and the floor beneath us rippled like seawater, torn apart by time itself. We all tumbled into the abyssal depth I'd conjured, the years circling around us like a small hurricane.

I felt the impact of hard concrete rip through me, searing pain causing my vision to darken and my ears to ring. The others had been luckier, their bodies rolling across the floor more gently. The room around us stabilised, and I felt what was most likely the last flicker of oil as it burned through me, healing the internal damage I'd suffered from the fall. There'd probably be no more healing after this, no more tricks. My skin was left a charred and smoking mess, the boiling heat of my own veins burned into my arms and face, the smell of charred flesh filling the room accompanied by the wet sounds of dripping blood.

Around me I could hear the women whimper, dazed by the sudden vortex that had swallowed them. I tried my best to open my eyes, to rid myself of the ringing that filled my ears, but the more I fought to get up, the more I felt the force of gravity pull me down. The pain was too much, and before I could prepare myself I felt the tell-tale squeeze of my stomach as it emptied itself against my will, bile burning my throat and the acid pooling across the floor.

The confused murmur of voices surrounded me, meaning everyone was up and conscious, wondering how they'd ended up wherever they were. Sister Yadav had managed to relight her candle, the crackling sound of fire bouncing off the walls. I felt something move against me, and I realised I was holding onto the Empress, one of my hands covering her mouth and silencing her. As soon as my vision cleared enough to find her face, my eyes staring into her shocked ones, something completely snapped within me. I pulled my hand from her before hurriedly scrambling away, like some kind of animal. I couldn't believe what I'd just done, what she had just made me do. Something hot swept through me, washed away all reasoning and left me blind with seething anger.

"You have to be fucking crazy!" I found myself leaping to my feet, stomping over to the shocked Empress in pure unadulterated fury. "To want to endanger the lives of your allies for a piece of shit like me!"

My glare was poison as it burned into hers, and she dared raise her chin at me in defiance. "And you have to be an idiot to think I'll allow you to sacrifice yourself for me!"

"It's the only damn way!" I found myself shouting back, unintentionally confirming her assumption, not caring what the other two women thought, not caring what anyone thought anymore. All of my frustrations seemed to spill over right at that moment, every single emotion I had been bottling up now breaking through my carefully built defences. "No one is going to want to be ruled by some heretical Empress!"

"And you dying changes what exactly?" She questioned angrily, raising herself to a stand and resting her hands on her hips, those damn hips.

"It changes everything! You fucking idiot!" One of my hands pulled at my hair in frustration, knuckles turning white with the force. "Who would ever leave their lover behind to die?" My movements were frantic as I gestured to enunciate every single word, the logic so clear in my own head.

"I'm not going to have you killed just to be Empress, I won't have your blood stain my crown." She met my glare head on, even though she was much shorter than me, she made up for that in posture and confidence. "If you think I'm letting you take the easy way out then think again, either we escape together, or none of us do." She poked an accusatory finger at my chest, and I instantly knew it was a threat, one she didn't attempt to hide from anyone. She had figured me out, and she knew she had me there, her angry expression underlined with smug satisfaction.

"I'm dying soon anyway, you might as well use it to your benefit!" I was grasping for straws now, desperate to convince her, to set things straight. She was born an Empress and she shouldn't lose it all over me, some low-life beggar without a name. It was a price too steep, one I had never intended for her to pay.

"I refuse to benefit from abandoning you. No. I refuse to take any responsibility in your slaughter!" She wasn't giving up, dead-set on taking me out of here, and for what?

She was born into wealth and luxury, for her to throw it all away like this, risk it over someone who's life mattered to no one and wouldn't even last for much longer, it was insanity. I averted my eyes, found them lingering on my own bloodied fist, the trails of red revealing scars that would hardly be noticeable without them. There was no more room for pretence, no place for lies or games. She had managed to see through it all, forcing me to try and make her understand why I did what I had to do. I needed this; keeping her alive was the only right thing I had ever done, the only honest thing I had ever wanted.

"I'm not some abused little boy for you to save, Emily." There was nothing inside of me but bitter dyspathy, the cage of my ribs close to breaking beneath the weight of what I felt. "You want to know who I am?" I held up my palms before her face, my voice filled with raw detestation, and for the first time she studied them, a hint of wonder in her eyes. I stared her down as I revealed my skin to her, the edges of a jagged knife imprinted onto my flesh. "The blade I used left these, over 4000 years ago," I stepped closer, the Empress unmoving as she kept on staring at the small scars. The other two women didn't interfere, too wary of the both of us. "I used it to cut up my own mother, hack straight through flesh and bone." I spoke too soft for the others to hear, my voice contorted by that strange undertone that coloured it with ancient shades, deformed it into something I didn't recognise — long forgotten inflections and emotions. "In the end, it killed her." Another small step, and I was only inches away from her, unable to keep my hands from shaking with anger. "I killed her. It was my fault." Her eyes shot up to meet mine, those amber depths pulling me in, embracing me with their warmth. "Let me do this one thing right before I die." My brows knit together, creating weary creases, the bitter aftertaste of both the acid and my own words burning my tongue. "Don't have me ruin more."

 _Am I clean?_

Her hands found my face, cupped my cheeks with enough tenderness to hurt me, my blood sticking to her skin. "Why?" She shook her head, gaze filled with anguish. "What if I think you coming with me is the right thing?"

Her words were like knives, and they gutted me with practiced precision. My heart sank beneath the pull of agony, every single emotion I had fought to banish from my soul had silently and happily come back at her beckoning. My vision had blurred, the straight edges of her face now softened and muddled into something unfamiliar — I was unfamiliar. "I can't."

"Why?" She repeated, louder this time.

Soft words contradicted the visceral inferno that ravaged my insides, my voice no more than a fragile whisper meant for no one. "Because I don't deserve it." Just a few words, built on sentences upon sentences filled with blame, filled with loathing. I was an outsider to all she knew.

I watched as her face crumbled at my evanescent words, fingernails digging into the tender skin of my neck, her hands wrapping around my skull, my face, trying to force me back together — fix the fractures. "Life isn't for those worthy of it," her thumbs traced my cheekbones, wiped away the remnants of blood, "it's for those strong enough to dare continue regardless." There was a sureness to her tone that echoed experience, but she was speaking in spells, in magical and impossible prophecies. Of course an Empress would believe such things, of course her Royal blood would invoke her spirit with such noble nonsense.

I swallowed something hard and bitter, old hurt, and moved away from her, her hands immediately falling to her sides — defeated. I couldn't take it, she was too much. I was overflowing with chaos, my soul howling like storm winds. She had won, cornering me until there were no more choices left. I averted my attention in an attempt to brush off my emotions, briefly glancing at the other two women who stared at us in shocked silence, Sister Yadav's fingers clenched around the music box warningly. Ignoring their strange looks, I took a moment to carefully inspect the place we'd ended up in, in search for something new to focus on. I recognised the interior, the red carpet and draperies that covered both floor and ceiling. I started moving, restless, wanting to get away from her and clear my mind — falling into old patterns at the slightest taste of freedom. I scanned the shelves that lined the walls, noting the changes the room had gone through over the last years. With High Overseer Campbell gone, his secret getaway had been turned into a storage unit, used to safely hold heretical and occult objects — us ending up here had been no coincidence.

"Emily, dear," Callista quickly ran up to the abandoned Empress, grabbing onto her blood-stained hands, "stop this lunacy, child, this isn't you."

I ignored her, trying to figure out what to do now that my plans had been thoroughly ruined — how to fix this horrifying mess. My eyes found what I'd unconsciously been looking for, my hands reaching to retrieve what was mine. My fingers wrapped around the cool surfaces of my ritual rings, and I instantly felt a familiar calm sweep through me, the tell-tale feel of iron against skin returning a fraction of sanity to my mind.

"What do you think you're doing?" It was Sister Yadav who unexpectedly stood up against me, making a rather pitiful attempt to stop me as her voice shook with fear.

I ignored her as I bitterly wrapped my hand around the disgusting talisman Billie had offered me, the promise I wished I couldn't keep.

"Stop that now!" Sister Yadav stepped towards me, holding up the music box with trembling limbs.

I turned to scowl at her, my hands working on storing the mummified rat beneath the folds of my tattered clothing, and she was wise enough to stand down beneath my intimidating stare.

"Emily you cannot be serious, you can't expect us to bring _him_ along." Something cold hit me, something familiar, and I knew without looking it had to be Callista's disapproving glare.

"Well it seems you won't be having a choice, if you all want me alive at least." The Empress hissed angrily. "I'm not leaving without him. I don't care what _any_ of you have to say about that."

My eyes traced the strange collection that cluttered the shelves, the forbidden trinkets confiscated by the ever so diligent Abbey. Some objects I recognised, others I did not. My limbs were pulled towards a familiar dome of glass, a dancing stone floating in its center: a shard of the Void. The more my mind cleared, the more I realised how little control I had. My skin still sang with the feel of hers against it, and I figured that's exactly where all my problems began. My fingers lifted the glass container and revealed the stone material that had kept me its prisoner for centuries. Here, within the earthly atmosphere of this dimension, it looked less like crystallised death and more like any other shiny rock instead. My skin was drawn to its cold surface — like the intoxicating attraction of old lovers the poets could never shut up about — and my fingers trembled as they carefully wrapped around the jagged shard.

Something gruelling shot through me, a harrowing ache that tore at the tender meat inside me, yet I didn't pull away. Instead I held onto the onyx material more firmly, the physical pain a strange liberation from the overwhelming psychological hurt. I felt calmed by the sinister stone that now grated against my skin, the traces of blood that still stuck to my flesh rubbing off onto it, thick and sticky. I knew that whatever I did now, she would most likely follow me one way or another — foolish as she was. My eyes traced the obsidian edges, entranced by the patten they drew. Without thinking I stored the stone fragment inside the folds my shirt next to the disgusting rat corpse, its craggy surface strangely reassuring against my skin, before turning back to face the Empress. With the ritual rings back in place and the rock against my skin I felt more like myself, the cold and detached figure that had witnessed enough death to no longer find it all that interesting, and I supposed that was saying something. She met my gaze head on, no doubt to be found within those sharp eyes.

"I'll come," I offered, taking a step towards her, "but you have to make a promise to me." I tilted my head, taking yet another step, noticing the way her hands turned to fists.

She copied my stance, turning her face to match mine, refusing to move away as I continued to approach. "And what would you have me promise?"

I stopped a few inches away from her, entering her personal space and soaking up the warmth that radiated off of her. I ignored Callista's disapproving looks, as well as Sister Yadav's. I kept my gaze locked with hers, eyes staring into hers unflinchingly. Her breath caught in her throat as I bent forward, face nearing hers smoothly. Her lips parted to allow a shuddery gasp as I continued to move, closely missing her mouth and headed for the shell of her ear instead. Her scent enveloped me, welcomed me as I allowed my cheek to bump into hers, the tip of my nose touching the graceful curve of her ear. My eyes shot over to Callista, who stood only meters away, just able to spot her in my peripheral, before whispering my wish for only the Empress to hear. "Don't keep me around out of pity."

I caught the stutter of her heart, the way her hairs rose and stood on their ends. I closed my eyes briefly, tracing my nose along her skin, her cheek, as I moved back, my breath splaying across her face. I then watched her through lidded eyes, my own heart in my throat. Her gaze followed me, her shoulders squared, as I retreated. The stone sang against my flesh, somehow triggered by our interaction, filling my blood with static. The other two women didn't speak, as if afraid either one of us might lash out again. I righted myself, looking down on the woman before me, eyes drawn to the subtle hint of her collarbones at the nape of her shirt.

"Okay," she said, not a single hint of doubt in her voice, "I promise."

The words liberated me, somehow.

"Your Majesty, I don't know what someone such as the Outsider might desire from you," Sister Yadav stepped in, her voice trembling with terror, "but I advise you not to be fooled by his deceptive requests!"

The Empress's eyes didn't leave mine, a glint of wonder dancing within those depths like embers. My eyes followed the curve of her neck, the smooth edge of her jaw. If this was what she wanted, I would at least allow her to see for herself;

Beggars like me had nothing to offer an Empress.

"Lady Emily... I beg you," Callista tentatively wrapped her thin fingers around the Empress's shoulder, eyebrows pinched together worriedly, "you can still save face..." She paused, knuckles turning white as she gripped the Empress more tightly. "You can still honour your mother's legacy."

I watched as something about the woman in front of me changed, something unfamiliar and disconcerting; like a dislocated joint beneath skin. She moved fast, too fast for my eyes to keep up, her arm crashing against Callista's, forcing the limb away from her as she turned, her other hand swiping up to take a hold of it. She halted then, knees bent as if ready to pounce whatever she might deem a threat.

"Do not speak of my mother's legacy," she hissed angrily. "My mother would never sustain her rule through needlessly spilled blood."

Callista's pleading expression faltered, clouding over with doubt and regret. When she spoke her voice was tinged with decades old sadness. "You're a lot like your father, you know." Her weary gaze darted to me, seizing me up carefully before slowly stepping away from the Empress, bowing her head before speaking again. "I recognise a losing battle when I see one..." There was a tightness to her that suggested her ongoing personal disagreement. "I won't allow for you to be executed." She paused, her gaze sharpening as it returned to me. "...However, once we escape from here, I won't be helping you any further whilst you continue to dabble in such darkness."

The Empress straightened, raising her chin at her old mentor. All the happiness at being reunited seemed to have forsaken them, the air cold and thick with hostility. "Fine," she spoke, voice detached.

"You really are an idiot." The derisive words left me before I could so much as think them, coming straight from my heart.

The Empress's narrowed eyes found me, an offended tilt to her lips. "I'm the idiot?" Her voice had gone hoarse from all the stress she'd put it through, the sound of it strangely alluring. "You're the one trying to get yourself killed!"

"If anything, I've learned dying is the smartest thing you can do in this world." The stone still sang against my flesh and my eyes were drawn to the way her chest rose, the slight part of those lips — those lips that insisted I come with her.

"We really don't have the time for this." Sister Yadav sounded as put off as I'd expect an Oracular Sister to be in my presence. "We best get out of here before anyone sounds the alarm."

"How?" The Empress appeared just a bit too eager to change the subject.

I stepped away from the three, headed towards a chest I knew stood at the end of the room. I hadn't thought this through, not a single bit. In fact, I hadn't expected to be in this situation to begin with. I wasn't used to being unprepared, I hadn't been forced to improvise for centuries. But at the back of my brain I felt the familiar whisperings of faint memories, fragments of the world that shimmered like a sea of forgotten about moments. Not me though, I rarely forgot anything. My fingers worked the clasp that held the lid in place, quick at opening the large container. Inside I found a pile of uniforms, and most importantly; masks. Within the chest laid several neat stacks of Overseer clothing, I carefully took a pair of everything, my fingers rubbing against the stiff fabric that had opposed my existence with every thread and fiber.

"How did you know?" The Empress had followed me, apparently.

I didn't turn towards her, instead pushing her set into her waiting hands without looking. "I know many things, asking how is almost redundant considering my history." I started on the pants first, pulling them over the pair I was already wearing. "For instance I know this particular uniform belonged to an Overseer who was executed for falling in love with a not so loving colleague." My eyes traced the familiar stitches that held parts of the fabric together, before darting towards the other two women who now stood gathered, whispering conspiringly amongst one another. "I also know Callista thinks of you like a daughter." I took a pair of boots and pulled them over my bare feet, noting how the pants were too short for my long legs. "She's the closest you'd ever have to a maternal presence in your life," I glanced at the woman beside me, noting how her pants were too big. "At least, if you hadn't been such an idiot by ruining nearly every bit of love she has for you."

The Empress frowned at my words, eyes staring at the dark jacket she held between her fingers. I put my arms through the sleeves, the strictures echoing through my mind like curses.

"If she truly loved me she would respect my choices."

"You underestimate the hatred towards me ingrained in the people." I found myself glancing at the Empress again, eyes following the way her shirt danced against her frame as she moved to put on the jacket. "She is respecting your choices to the best of her ability by not turning you in again."

"She should trust me enough to know I always have the best of intentions." She was pouting, there was no mistaking the sulky undertone of her voice.

"Just because I never did anything to hurt you doesn't mean others haven't suffered in my name."

She halted her movements to pin me down with an annoyed glare. "Why are you defending her?"

"I'm not defending her, _Empress_ , I'm trying to tell you I'm not worth it."

She didn't answer that, finishing up quickly instead by pulling her mask into place before turning away from me. "Let's just get out of here."

It felt strange, holding the shiny mask in my hands, its cold, metallic material rubbing against my skin. The empty eyeholes reminded me of many who had looked through them, had preached their ways behind the protective guise of a religious shield. Now it would protect me. I glanced at the Empress who had joined the other two women, her voice muffled behind the mask as she discussed a plan with them. I could tell Sister Yadav was hesitant to cooperate, the only thing keeping her from completely turning on us now being the Empress's old mentor. Callista nodded her head stiffly to whatever her former student was telling her, eyebrows pinched together tightly, almost as if she had to continuously fight off the disgust at my acrid presence — at least, that was my assumption. I sighed before strapping the mask in place and hiding my face from the world — a familiar feeling — before joining the group at the other side of the room.

"You can't just walk out the front door like that, the risk is too high! What if you're stopped? What if they ask questions?" Callista pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, her sentiment echoed by Sister Yadav's nods of disapproval.

"Mel could reply, I wouldn't have to say anything."

" _The Outsider's_ voice might be recognised, we don't know who's on guard duty." Sister Yadav seemed deeply offended at the Empress's continued use of a name other than 'the Outsider' for me.

"There's a room on the first floor no one uses, its windows lend free access to an abandoned part of the backyard where no guards are to be found. Climb out of it and we can safely head out onto the streets without fear of patrols or security checks." I cut in, knowing this discussion was headed nowhere if I didn't intervene.

"Why should we blindly trust your word?" Callista turned to scowl at me.

I returned her glare eagerly, even though I knew she couldn't see with the mask in place. "You'd have been arrested if it hadn't been for my intervention. I suggest you either cooperate nicely in getting us out, or I'll just have to see what other tricks I could use to dispose of you." I was bluffing, there were no more powers, I had most likely used up every bit of Whale Oil just getting us to safety.

"You looked pretty beaten up as is, I doubt you have much left other than empty threats, _Outsider_."

"Test me," I cautioned.

"Stop it." The Empress stepped in, softly pushing a hand against my chest to make me stand down. "We're going to have to work together, so we're going to have to trust each other if we want to get out of here in one piece." Her hand lingered, and I dreaded to think she would be able to tell the way my heart had started skipping beats at her touch.

Callista turned away, shaking her head in frustration. "You're asking too much of me, child."

"Sister Yadav, do you know of this room?" The Empress turned her attention to the blindfolded Sister.

"I think I might know what room he means... but I'm not entirely sure." She spoke hesitantly, rubbing her hands together in uncertainty.

The Empress nodded, finally retrieving her hand from where it had been resting over my heart, a shock of relief flooding through me. "We'll just have to take our chances." She headed for the door, the only exit that had once been a hidden slab of stone before being replaced by regular wood. Her gloved fingers wrapped around the knob, attempting to turn it before discovering it had been locked from the outside. "Well shit."

I gestured for her to step aside as I joined her at the exit, my own gloved hand pushing against the wood, trying to test it for weak points before assessing the hinges. The others watched me in silence, and I could tell they were sceptical of my approach. I took a few steps back, adjusting my stance and trying my best to conjure up some long forgotten muscle memory. I almost thanked the Empress for her silly lessons on posture as I found my balance, shifting my weight before throwing it all into a single kick, strong enough to break the door away from its post.

"Were you some kind of escape artist in a past life?" She commented as she stepped through the now clear passageway, followed by the other two women who watched me cautiously.

"No." I mumbled beneath my breath as I tagged along, sidestepping the fallen door, images of empty homes and hidden food at the back of my mind.

We were headed for the stairs, the Empress and Callista walking side by side, followed by me and Sister Yadav. I could tell she was uncomfortable with being so close to me, but she knew she had to act normal if we were to move through the building undisturbed. I couldn't hear what the two women ahead were talking about, but I occasionally caught the Empress glancing my way.

"Why did you leave the Void?" Sister Yadav decided to speak to me, even though her tone suggested she rather she hadn't.

"I thought the interrogations were over."

"I'm not here to interrogate you," she argued, clearly offended by the implications. "Did you do it so you could corrupt her?"

"This habit of going off on assumptions, is it a religious thing, or are all religious people born that way and therefore more prone to being religious?" I glanced her way, annoyed at the blindfold that hid most of her expression. "The conundrum has been on my mind for ages now."

"Any fool could tell the poor Empress has been utterly brainwashed by your evil influence — what part of ruining her life satisfies you so?"

I didn't like the things she had to say, and I also didn't like the fact that she was part of the Oracular Order and could turn on us as soon as we left the building. "Did it feel good? Writing your mother that letter?" I avoided her accusatory question, watching her from the corners of my eyeholes. "She never received it, you know. She died of the plague, along with three of your little sisters. I bet they would have thanked you — had they lived, of course."

I didn't miss the offended gasp that escaped her. "You really are a vile demon, aren't you? Inflicting nothing but suffering and agony onto the world!"

I had hit a sensitive spot. Good. "Trust me, the world hardly needs my help with that."

"Humanity is good and sacred, it's you who corrupts the innocent! You turn children into murderers and- and mothers into monsters!"

"I know this might be hard to swallow, but your mother did just fine without my help." We were close to reaching the second door that would lead to the main hall. "She made all those choices herself."

"Liar! Nothing but lies and deceit escape your lips!"

"Believe whatever you wish to believe, Sister Yadav, I'm not here to indoctrinate you into my power-hungry cult."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

We reached the large metal door at the end of the hallway, and the Empress first checked the room beyond by looking through the keyhole before opening it. The large hall appeared to be deserted, the marble structures illuminated by nothing but candlelight. Evening had fallen, and it felt strange to finally have a real sense of time again. I ignored Sister Yadav and focused on our surroundings instead. I had spotted two Overseers guarding the main entrance, but apart from them no one appeared to be present. We made our way towards the other staircase undisturbed, my boots thudding onto the marble floors — I hated the sound.

Callista and the Empress had abruptly stopped talking as soon as we'd caught up to them, and it made me suspicious to say the least. I moved to lead the way as soon as we reached the first floor, the group now following me obediently. We passed a few Overseers in the hallways, but they greeted us without paying much mind to our strange little group, even though Callista stuck out like a sore thumb. Of course it wasn't uncommon for guests to visit the Abbey, but somehow her presence caused my hairs to stand on end every time we passed another Overseer. We reached the room without disturbance, and I almost couldn't believe it would be this easy. Something had to go wrong still, it was bound to happen. I felt close to paranoid as we shut the door behind us, darkness falling over us again without the light of a candle to guide us further.

My eyes adjusted fairly quickly, and I found the room looked the same as it had for years now, the greyish walls lined with shelves of old, and mostly outdated books. The two large windows that allowed for a sliver of moonlight looked out over the walls that barred the surrounding garden from the public streets. The Empress had already started working on opening them, her gloved hands fumbling with the simple, but rusty locks.

"I won't be going any further, you'll be on your own from here on out," Sister Yadav spoke from behind, her white-clad figure easy to spot against the wooden door.

Callista was quick to take a hold of the Sister, enveloping her petite frame in a heartfelt embrace. "Thank you, Sister, I will be forever grateful for your help."

I watched as she returned the embrace, her face buried in the crook of Callista's neck. "You know I owe you," she whispered, my sharp hearing just able to pick it up.

Callista took a step back, hands resting on the younger woman's shoulders protectively. "Stay safe, Riya."

Sister Yadav nodded, "the Empress is lucky to have you on her side. Go now," she urged.

Just then I heard the familiar sound of wood sliding against wood, alerting me the Empress had succeeded in opening the window. I took the opportunity to turn away from the two women, joining the Empress where she stood as she carefully inspected the grounds below. She seemed to sense me coming. "Callista goes down first, then you, then me." Her voice was strange and hollow behind the mask, and I couldn't help the feeling of distrust brought on by the familiar echo.

Still I nodded reluctantly, even though I knew she couldn't see. I could hardly tell it was her anymore, and the absence of familiarity made me long for something that wasn't even truly gone. Which was strange and extremely silly — especially given the circumstances. I realised I was rambling internally, really, I just didn't know how to feel anymore, about anything. One moment she was in a cell with me, convinced of my evil — and the next she was standing in front of me, forcing me to escape death with her. She wasn't really forcing me of course, I knew that. I knew I could've just not cared about her fate, about what happened to her, but I could hardly deny it anymore. I did care, more than I was truly comfortable admitting — but what was the point in hiding it still? I glanced at my hands which hung at my sides, covered by the dark Overseer gloves.

How was I supposed to forget?

"Mel?"

"Huh?" When I looked back at the Empress again I noticed Callista had already joined us.

"You weren't responding." She'd been talking to me?

My eyes shot between the two women, unsure what to say to that. "Oh."

"Take off your jacket, Mel." The Empress instructed me, hand open and waiting, gloves removed and jacket already draped across her arm.

I obeyed without question, taking off the dark article and revealing the bloodied prison garb beneath — or what was left of it. I handed the requested item over, and she immediately started on tying the sleeves together.

"This will bring us closer to the ground, but not much. We'll have to jump the remaining space. I suggest you break your fall by rolling, you know how to roll?"

She was asking me, and I just nodded, knowing full well I had never before jumped from high spaces.

"Good. Callista, you go first. Hold on tightly and I will help you through as much as I can. Do not try to break your fall with either your arms or legs. Roll, or you'll probably break some bones." She turned her attention back to the window, throwing the jackets across the sill, holding on to the end of one of the sleeves.

Callista nodded hesitantly, climbing onto the wooden edge and looking at the Empress for approval. The Royal used one of her hands to guide her, helping Callista move into a good climbing posture.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here to help." She assured her, pushing one of her large boots against the wall to give her some extra support.

Callista carefully lowered herself down the opening, hands wrapped tightly around the thick jackets. Slowly she allowed herself to slide down, bit by bit, her face disappearing behind the wood. I glanced at Sister Yadav, who still stood at the door, listening intently whether or not someone might be approaching. A soft thud let me know Callista had made it down successfully, meaning it was my turn. I walked up to the Empress — ready to take the makeshift rope into my hands — when I found myself stilling, eyes drawn to the mask that covered her face, its smooth surface shining in the moonlight. The whitish glow brought me back to that hallway, to the night I'm sure we'd both rather forget. It all seemed so far away now, so small and insignificant.

"Go on," she urged me, softly, her head moving to glance at the Sister behind us.

My heart was doing it again, dancing in my chest to a beat I couldn't control. We were going to be free. This was it. No more secrets, no more sentence. She had seen the worst parts of me and had still insisted I shouldn't stay behind, even if that meant she most likely could never return home. My shaking hands wrapped around the jacket she held out for me, fingers gripping onto it tightly. My mind was still trying to comprehend what was happening, how things had unfolded the way they had, how she could still want me near her after my confession. Maybe she was right? Maybe I could start anew, forget about it all and for once just be without remorse or sin. But as I was about to climb onto the sill, a sound came from the hallway that made my blood run cold.

"They know!" Sister Yadav panicked, her voice barely audible above the sound of the alarm ringing through the large building. "Quickly! Go! They'll be checking the rooms!" She stepped away from the door, looking for something to do or somewhere to hide.

I looked back at the Empress, knowing the both of us would never make it out in time. I let go then, my hands and arms instead wrapping around the woman before me. I could hear Sister Yadav's gasp as she watched me do what was most likely one of the stupidest things I had done in a long time. Time froze in that instant, and before the Empress could so much as react I threw myself backwards, the both of us plunging down. The cold night air cut into me as we fell, and for a moment I felt freer than I had ever been. The adrenaline that shot through me was absolutely dizzying, my heart pounding erratically enough to deafen me. I realised I could die, and I found myself holding on to the woman in my arms more closely, cherishing the knowledge that she had risked it all to keep me around — before the impact hit me and sent shockwaves of nauseating pain through me, my bones crying out in agony. My vision was filled with flashes, and I found myself unable to breathe. I soon wondered if perhaps I was already dying, my body unable to move as every inch of me filled with the awful sting of hurt.

"Fuck! Mel!"

I felt her tear the mask away from me, her agile body quick to crawl off of mine. The cool breeze kissed my skin, and I couldn't help the way my body gasped for air as I felt myself convulse involuntarily.

"Mel!" Her face had appeared above mine, her eyes shimmering, her own mask gone as well. I couldn't contain my awed smile as I watched her features painted by the pale light, her golden gaze standing out more than ever before. "By the Void, please, we need to go." She was begging, and I felt something wet run down my cheek. I realised she was crying, or more specifically, she was crying for me — right?

Something warm spread through me, and I knew it had to be the Whale Oil, or what was still left of it. The pain quickly dulled, and I found myself become increasingly more clear headed. I realised how lucky I was I still had some left, and I also realised I had never considered myself lucky before. "The great Empress Emily Kaldwin, crying over a boy?" I croaked from beneath her, my chest aching as it moved.

Her eyes widened at the sound of my voice, and the relieved smile that spread across her cheeks was enough to leave me breathless all over again. "You have to be a complete fucking idiot to throw yourself from a window, just to save some spoiled Empress."

I found myself chuckling at that, followed by a painful grimace at the pain that shot through me. "I've made worse choices." I assured her breathlessly.

"Lady Emily, quickly, we don't have long." Callista urged from somewhere near us, and I didn't miss the strange tone of her voice.

"Can you walk?" Emily asked me, her hands shooting up to support me as I tried to get up.

I glanced down at my chest, her fingers splayed out across it. "This feels oddly familiar," I grunted as I fought to lift myself. I couldn't stop the flood of memories; torn wallpaper and burning chairs. I managed to get up with her help, however my body was still painful after the Whale Oil had taken care of the brunt of the damage. I realised our fall had been partly broken by a row of thick bushes that grew right beneath the window. Without it, I probably wouldn't have survived the impact.

Lucky, I supposed.

"Come on, we have to get going before anyone sees us," Emily whispered from beside me, her arms both working on supporting me.

Callista had already started looking for a way out, but I knew the wall that surrounded this part of the garden hadn't seen any maintenance for a long time. This place was a well-known safe haven to many of the children that lived in the surrounding neighbourhood, a small opening in the wall allowing them easy access.

"There," I gestured to an overgrown part of the brickwork that imprisoned us, and Callista quickly pulled most of the branches away to reveal a hole large enough for us to crawl through.

"This is creepy," Emily admitted as we moved towards it, the alarm still resounding from the building we just left behind.

Callista was the first to crawl through, her hands soon waiting to help me get through as well. I was suspicious of her sudden cooperative attitude, and I eyed her warily as soon as I reached the other side of the wall. She didn't say anything, or acknowledge my strange looks. Emily quickly followed behind, eyes curiously roaming the new environment. We'd been led into a dark alley, a large building towering above us and sheltering us from prying eyes.

"I have a boat ready, it's waiting along the Wrenhaven," Callista whispered, "I can take you somewhere."

Emily nodded grimly, eyes darting away from her former mentor.

"I can lead us to the river," I offered, almost expecting Callista to reject any further help from me, however she surprised me by agreeing.

"Let's go then," Emily's hands pulled at my arm urging me to hurry. "The Overseers will be looking everywhere for us."

I found myself glancing down at the places she touched me, her delicate fingers wrapped around my bloodied limb. I noticed some of my blood had rubbed off on her, her shirt stained red in several places. I quickly forced myself to focus, knowing we were running out of time if we wanted to survive. I lead the two women through the alley, familiar enough with the streets to know exactly where to go. Candlelight burned at the end of our narrow passageway, and the sight felt disturbingly familiar. The streets were mostly dark in the absence of Whale Oil, a few candles here and there replacing the usual electrical lighting. It would seem most people didn't go out now that darkness had fallen, probably missing the usually secure feeling of a well-lit city. I carefully glanced around the street, relieved there was no one there right now, motioning for the others to follow. We swiftly crossed the cobblestoned stretch of terrain, our Overseer boots drumming with every step. We passed several streets that way, until the faint echo of music could be heard from nearby.

"Is that a party?" Emily whispered from right behind me, sounding completely mystified by the thought of such an event taking place during these trying times, and her question was answered as soon as we turned another corner.

We were greeted with lights, music and lots of people — all mingling and chattering happily, like there wasn't a care in the world, like their Empress hadn't recently been sentenced to execution.

"This is Lord Heaton's place," Emily observed thoughtfully, her mind working to recall why there was a party happening.

"First day of the month of Darkness," I provided, the arrival of the day itself filling me with a strange and empty feeling.

"What?" She sounded outraged, eyes darting between us and the party in confusion. "But I refused funding…"

"Seems someone approved it," Callista offered, seemingly unsure of it herself.

Emily's eyes narrowed as she watched the nobility enjoy their lavish night of luxury as if the poor weren't struggling, as if the capitol wasn't facing a crisis.

"They have electricity." I remarked, and it seemed this was the only mansion in this street, no, in the entire city of Dunwall, to be well lit. I immediately wondered if it had anything to do with High Overseer Kinley's recent absence, as well as the sudden lack of torture.

"We have to know how they're getting it and who funded this," Emily sneered, sneaking closer towards the gathering.

Still, even if the High Overseer had anything to do with it, this had to be one of the stupidest ideas of the night; we were so close to freedom, who cared where some noble got their money and electricity from? "I know I might not have a good reputation when it comes to advice, but I strongly advise you to leave it be and get out of here," I urged, grabbing onto her shoulder and stopping her in her tracks.

She glanced my way, and for a moment it seemed as if she was going to agree, until the both of us noticed a shock of blonde hair making its way through the crowd ahead.

"Wyman!" And just like that, my hand was dropped back to my side as she continued onwards, my words falling on deaf ears.

I was about to follow when I was stopped in my tracks, and I was surprised to find Callista sending me a look of absolute urgency. "I'm not taking any risks by going in there, keep her safe, please, I know there's no stopping that girl once she sets her mind on something."

At a complete loss for words, I just gave her an uncertain nod, not sure what to make of the sudden shift in attitude presented by the woman.

"Tell her to remember what I said." And with that, Callista released me and retreated. "I'll be at the docks, you probably know where."

I watched her disappear in the darkness, her words repeating in my mind over and over again. What had she said? What had the two of them been talking about as we escaped the Abbey? Something had changed her mind about me, somehow. My hand rose to my cheek, tracing the already dried tear that had run down it.

"Mel?" I heard her whisper, her dark silhouette a sharp contrast to the brightness that lay ahead. "Come on," she urged, before continuing her silent approach.

Lucky for us, the large mansion was surrounded by a lavish garden, exotic trees and plants covering the grounds and lending us with plenty of places to hide. No one noticed the occasional rustling of bushes, too absorbed in casual conversation, most sounds drowned out by the fancy tunes the orchestra played inside. I followed the Empress as she crawled beneath the cover of leaves with a cat-like grace, knowing I couldn't possibly match up to her experienced skills in stealth.

"We have to get inside, somehow," she observed, eyes scanning the sides of the large and luxurious structure that loomed ahead.

I stopped next to her, leaning in, just close enough to whisper in her ear. "There on the right is an air vent. On nights like this it's fully open to help keep the mansion cool, you can use it to climb inside unnoticed. There's a ledge along the walls inside, just below the ceiling, low and wide enough to crawl around. From there, you should have free access to almost every room."

I didn't miss the sharp breath she took, or the way she leaned into me ever so slightly. "I should have had you with me sooner, would have saved me a lot of trouble breaking into places."

"My, Your Majesty, I think that might be considered cheating," I taunted.

"And heretical Void powers aren't? Who's keeping track anyway?"

She didn't waste the first opening she spotted, quickly using the convenient shadows to make her way towards the vent, body low against the ground. I kept watch as she worked on opening the latch, making sure no one would spot us. As soon as she crawled inside, I followed. Watching others do this made it seem a lot easier than reality proved it to be. Not only was I simply too tall to properly fit inside, I sure wasn't as flexible as the trained woman in front of me. I struggled to keep up with her, my joints screaming at me for twisting them in unnatural ways. Below I could hear the ruckus from the party, the music penetrating the metal structure, its vibrations causing the material to tremble with every beat. This was the first time I had actually _felt_ music in centuries — aside from the music boxes of course, but those hardly counted.

She used the first hole we came across to crawl out of the vents, gracefully leaping onto the ledge I'd told her about. I followed, albeit with less grace, and she was quick enough to help stabilise me, hands holding onto my arms and pushing me against the wall behind us. It didn't take me very long to realise just how close we were, her chest almost fully pressed against me, her hair tickling the tip of my nose as she observed the people below.

"There," she pointed towards the familiar mob of blonde curls, the figure of Wyman unmistakable.

They were walking through a nearby hallway, which wouldn't be too hard to reach as long as we managed to stay on the ledges. Lucky for us the main part of the crowd mostly navigated the garden or the main hall, leaving the surrounding hallways nearly deserted.

"This way." I took her hand without thinking and led her along the narrow space, careful not to make a complete fool of myself by falling off — quickly realising there'd been absolutely no need for me to grab the limb, and that it was too late to take it back.

"I never expected the Outsider to be such a felon. Breaking into fancy parties, wiping his dirty boots all over the expensive stucco." I heard Emily's taunting voice behind me.

I didn't turn to look her, too focused on keeping my balance as I led the both of us around. "You should see me break into women's bedrooms," I mumbled, eyes darting along the upcoming turns, "drives the Abbey crazy whenever I ruin some poor lady's stucco."

The bubbly sound of her laughter surprised me, and I couldn't help but glance at her — the smile that decorated her features enough to make me lose my composure, forcing me to avert my gaze again as I felt my face start to burn. The sight of her was dizzying, and I had to fight to keep my heart from racing again. She was driving me crazy — no, this entire thing was driving me completely nuts. I wasn't supposed to be sneaking into mansions with her, and I certainly wasn't supposed to _enjoy_ doing so. But for some reason she never tried to pull her hand from mine, and she certainly didn't seem to mind my company.

"There they are," she whispered from behind, her hand gently squeezing mine, causing my insides to squirm awkwardly.

I followed her gaze, spotting Wyman as they leaned against a wall all alone, the Morley Noble looking more downtrodden than I had ever seen them. Lucky for us they had chosen a spot near one of the windows, and Emily appeared to pick up on my thoughts as she moved towards the obviously expensive draperies that framed the intricately carved glass — every inch of this mansion screamed wealth, and it annoyed me to no end.

"I'll jump down and pull Wyman behind the curtains so we can talk, you wait here."

I wasn't sure it was the best approach, but I wasn't about to argue — in fact I didn't even have the opportunity to do so, the woman already down on the floor before I could utter a single word. The Morley Noble reacted with shocked surprise as they were dragged behind the thick fabric of the draperies, both of their figures disappearing from sight. I could faintly hear them whisper to each other, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any threats, trying my hardest to listen to something else instead of eavesdropping on their reunion.

"By the Outsider, Em! You're here, safe? How?" The sheer relief in the Noble's voice was enough to make me feel sick, and at the same time make me question myself — what was up with me? Instead I just rolled my eyes, staring ahead at some of the nobility passing by, chatting on about some minor and rather insignificant bullshit.

"It's a long story, but first you need to help me, Wyman," Emily whispered, "you have to tell me who's funding this party?"

Wyman didn't answer right away, their brain most likely still processing the sudden appearance of their long time lover. "What, you don't know? High Overseer Kinley of course; he's the one who's been ruling in your place." They paused, lowering their voice even further. "He's using this event to promote his new source of energy. The Nobility applaud him Em… They think he saved them from your corrupt rule."

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"Shh, Em, they'll hear you." Another pause, and I caught a stirring in the distance. "What did you expect? Associating with the Outsider? They all think you went mad."

There, in an adjoining room, I spotted an Overseer as they made their way through the crowd, headed for our secluded hallway. I reacted on pure instinct, using the ledge to swing down and roll across the floor until I joined the other two hiding behind the curtain. If I hadn't been in such a hurry, I might have been proud of the manoeuvre.

"By the Void!" Wyman squealed in fear, "You brought him with you?"

"Shhh," I ushered them, covering their mouth with my hand, "someone's coming." I glanced at Emily, "I think they noticed the curtains move." Behind me I could discern the tell-tale sound of Overseer boots, letting me know my suspicion was most likely true. I directed my attention back to Wyman, their eyes wide with fear. "If you want to help Emily then listen to me; see if they still have Whale Oil around here, smash the vat near me the first chance you get," I instructed before pushing them down against the wall, hiding their presence as well as I could before pulling Emily flush against me, obscuring the Noble with our bodies.

A familiar voice spoke out from the other side of the draperies. "Alright, no funny business behind the curtains, this is a-" Overseer Marcus fell silent as he pulled the thick fabric aside, revealing both me and the former Empress squeezed together. Momentarily dumbfounded, it didn't take him long to recompose himself. "Well, well, well," he whistled, "it seems we have a guest of honour in our midst." He roughly pulled us from our hiding place, throwing us towards a nearby doorway and into full sight of the main hall, not noticing Wyman who knelt below. Shocked gasps could be heard echoing throughout the crowd as Overseer Marcus kicked us further forward, his hand working on retrieving his gun from his holster. The casual sound of music was quickly replaced by surprised whispers and fearful squeals. "Your Majesty, how nice of you to join our humble gathering," he spoke mockingly, pointing the gun at the both of us, urging us to keep moving towards the center of the room.

My eyes flitted across the large room, observing the people that surrounded us, all watching me and their former Empress with contained curiosity. They would certainly have something interesting to talk about, for once, and I couldn't contain the hateful scowl at the thought of them reducing their true Empress to nothing but a scandalized gossip story.

"Well if it isn't the one and only Emily Kaldwin!" The voice of High Overseer Kinley rang through the room as he stepped forward, flanked by Lord Heaton himself, who at the sight of us fearfully stuck to his side for protection. "How nice of you to join us, and I see you even brought your heretical little friend. I don't think I've ever heard of the Outsider crashing a party before." He chuckled darkly, the surrounding crowd bursting out in a new orchestra of whispers as they all eyed me with renewed curiosity.

I glanced at the woman next to me, whose posture betrayed nothing of the fear that filled her eyes. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out, my hand wrapping around hers protectively, reassuring her that I wouldn't let them hurt her — I would fight every single one of them if I had to.


	11. Dive — Part 2

The room smelled of wine and ripe fruits, their scents mixing together into a bittersweet aroma; I could taste the exotic delicacies with every breath I took, their balmy smell sticking to the roof of my mouth. The atmosphere was warm, wrapping us in a pleasant blanket — or perhaps it was that she had inched closer to me, her shoulder a soft caress against my bicep, spreading a titillating heat through me that would have left me feeling almost jovial were it not for our current predicament.

"Honestly, I'm baffled at how the two of you managed to escape your prison. I suppose a check on personnel might be in order." High Overseer Kinley's voice cut through the air like the crack of a whip. He watched us via the holes of his mask, the frozen glare of its features accentuated by the bright lights overhead — the disorienting buzz of energy all around.

I could name each and every noble present within the room, I knew their worst fears, their darkest secrets, and I recognised the judgemental stares they sent the woman next to me — all the while I knew painfully well; they truly had no room to judge anyone if not themselves.

"It's all fair, I understand you must be just as eager for your execution as everyone else is," he continued, taking several domineering steps towards us. "So what are we waiting for? As you can see, we've fixed the power problem." He spread his arms, gesturing around the room filled with the hum of electricity. "Without your help, might I add. As of now you're nothing but a waste of the Abbey's resources." He cocked his head, the light glinting off his mask, before turning to Emily. "…It's always tragic to witness an innocent young woman's descent into madness." He raised his gloved hand towards her cheek, fingers ready to caress it. "Another waste…"

"Don't touch her." My voice was ice, carrying a signature coldness left by the Void itself.

"What?" The High Overseer spoke in false abashment, turning his attention back to me. "The Outsider doesn't like his toys being touched, does he?"

Emily gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and it was just enough to keep me from taking the bait. Instead I sneered at the loathsome figure, the monster who dared call himself a man of good faith.

"Suddenly not so talkative, are we? That's alright." He started circling us like the greedy vulture he was, a wicked smile on his face and a murderous glint shining from the dark eyeholes. The crowd watched with bated breath, drawn in by the High Overseer's theatrical approach. "Your father was an exquisitely interesting man, was he not, Outsider? A true pioneer I suppose."

I didn't reply, the room suddenly too bright, too loud — too white. The static of the artificial lighting was overwhelming, dizzying me and making it increasingly harder to keep track of the High Overseer's movements. There was a spine-chilling undertone to the constant buzz that weighed down on us, something ominous and familiar — something greedy and ravenous.

"But, alas: a heretic nonetheless." He shook his head in rehearsed disapproval. "Well, you know what happens to heretics." He stopped in front of us again, quickly gesturing at his son Marcus to come over before turning to the crowd. "Honoured guests! What better way to start a new era — to have this night earn its place in history — than by ridding us all of the very embodiment of our suffering!" He spoke with a charisma and conviction that managed to enrapture most of the crowd, an excited murmur arising from their numbers. Few pretended to be shocked, drawing attention with their pretentious gasps and fake scandalised looks. "The generations to come will never forget the night the world was cleansed from the damning curse that is the Outsider!" He took the gun from his son, wrapping it in his black grasp, pointing it at my head with cold-blooded confidence. His finger slowly slid over the trigger, and I intertwined mine with Emily's, preparing for the worst. "After all, you're nothing but a pathetic mortal now…"

Perhaps I should have known better. After all this was how it always ended: blades and bloodied snow — I hadn't learned my lesson. Where had Wyman even gone? I turned to look to the the woman beside me, the one who had risked it all only to march right into her own demise. I had warned her; I had always been bad luck. Her gaze met mine, but there was no blame to be found in her eyes, no unspoken accusations — only a fiery resolve no bullet could ever extinguish.

"No — wait!" High Overseer Kinley lowered the gun, surprising us. "I have a better idea." His other hand motioned at the orchestra. "It would be rude to leave a party without first offering your beloved Lady a dance!" Albeit hesitant at first, soon the room was flooded with the gentle sound of music again, the reluctant orchestra picking up their instruments one by one.

"What?" Emily was seemingly outraged by the idea, head whipping towards the Overseer in shock. Soft whispers and mumbles arose from our observant spectators, all taken in by the drama.

"You heard me, Kaldwin." The High Overseer threatened through gritted teeth, briefly gesturing at her with the gun in his hand. "A dance. Or I shoot."

I recognised a trap when I saw one, and I knew what would happen if we failed to amuse the man — because that was what this was all about, wasn't it? Putting on a spectacle, playing with us as would a cat with a mouse. He was gloating in his victory, prolonging the moment and parading the power he had over us — much like he'd done with his wife, and I knew exactly how that little game had ended.

"Mel, it's okay if you can't," she tried to reassure me, but I didn't reply, feeling my temper flare and fill me with the same burning spite that had consumed me earlier.

I released her hand and bent down to take off the heavy Overseer boots, silently gesturing for her to do the same. I threw them a few feet away — towards a gasping group of Nobles who quickly stepped away from the possibly cursed pair of shoes. My bare feet stepped onto the marble floor, soaking up the cool touch of stone. I had witnessed people dance all throughout history, and I wasn't ashamed to admit I had watched the woman before me dance with particular interest on more than one occasion. Of course watching wasn't the same as actually doing it, but I still remembered fragments of a former life; little feet and guiding hands, a roaring bonfire accompanied by the crunch of snow.

And so I presented the woman before me with a polite bow, bending my right arm before me as was custom; something I had more knowledge of than she had previously given me credit for. "Empress Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, will you do me the honour to dance with me?" I offered in a charade of refinement, a small but mischievous smile playing on my lips — the High Overseer would soon discover; we wouldn't fall for his trap like helpless little mice, far from it, we would bite him in the pious ass and go out with the cunning of rats.

She hesitated, watching me with questioning eyes and trying to get a reading of my intent. She quickly caught on to my farcical attitude, her lips twisting into an overly demure smile. "With pleasure, Me-"

I shook my head, interrupting her before she could finish. "Матвей."

Her lips had parted at the word, cheeks suddenly glowing a rosy pink — I felt my heart stutter and jump around my chest as she stared at me in stunned silence, eyes glittering like a golden sea. The both of us held our breath, me in anticipation, her in what I could only guess to be awe. That moment the entire room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us, scored by the beating of our hearts and the gentle harmony of music.

"I… I accept, Matvey." The name fell off those inviting lips like a question, uncertain of its pronunciation. I reassured her with a smile of approval, and she grew more confident, quickly adding; "Please, it's just Emily."

And like that, there was nothing separating us anymore. No titles or positions that raised one above the other, just two mortal beings subjected to the same fate, existing in the same place at the same time. The song that played in the background started slow, led by a violin. It wasn't hard for me to get a sense of the rhythm, and as soon as the right notes were played I pulled her towards me gently, the joining of our hands saturated my sensitive skin with exhilarating sparks. She didn't know the position I guided her into, turning her back towards me, pressing my hip up behind her as I raised both her arms. Our bodies merged together fluidly and somehow the whole room brightened with an influx of light, the buzzing electricity fluttering with every energising breath I took.

I softly pressed my cheek against the top of her head, her hair caressing my skin, as I lowered my lips to her ear. "Just follow my example," I whispered, all too aware of the shiver that ran through her before she nodded silently. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to remember exactly how to move, my thumb trailing the top of her hand absentmindedly. Every breath she took drove into me, ignited that strange longing her presence always seemed to beckon, our bodies united in perfect symmetry. I knew I had to focus, but I couldn't fight the distracting heat that consumed me. Then, still with my eyes closed, I guided her through the first steps. Every beat of my heart was heavy, pumping my veins full of heated blood, crackling with static, and I swore I could see a faint glow behind my eyelids. Her body moved against mine, picking up on the steps easily, our bare feet moving along the marble smoothly.

Then my eyes shot open as my leading arm lifted hers into the air, spinning her around me, her feet automatically raising her onto her toes. Her face lit up with a smile of excitement, and the way she scrunched up her nose sent another dizzying wave of heat through me. I halted her when she faced me as I moved backwards, guiding her to follow, before stopping and raising her arm again, pulling her into another spin as we circled each other over and over. I couldn't break my gaze away from the beautiful sight of her — she looked absolutely stunning even in her dirtied prison clothes — her hair moved and bounced with every spin she made, her eyes crinkling and alight with laughter. She enthralled me, even more so up close, and soon she was pressed against me again, my hand eagerly lowering to rest on the warm curve of her hip, fingers digging into her clothed skin. I kept leading her around, her head reclined against my chest as I helped her move, my hand gripping her more firmly as we meticulously swayed along to the violin in the background.

Every breath I took was filled with her, warm and welcoming, the feeling of her moving with me absolutely ecstatic and utterly addictive. Soon she no longer needed my guidance and we flowed across the cold marble together, our feet moving in perfect unison. Every time she returned to me I pulled her closer and closer, wanting to get more of her, hungry hands grasping at her heated skin as her slender frame arched against mine eagerly. Our bodies crashed into each other like waves, violent and empowering, swirling together like the perfect storm. Nothing mattered as we moved, not a single religious dogma or societal notion. We just were, our movements bridging all possible segregations. Before we knew it the dance evolved into its own thing, and Emily appeared thirsty to take the lead from me. I allowed her, and soon I found myself dragged along as we picked up speed, spinning around each other until instinct took over and my hands lifted her, my arms raising her up against me. She braced herself on my shoulders as we continued to turn, her body slowly sliding down in my hold, my skin soaking up her heat.

I couldn't stop staring at her as she hung above me, her eyes pinning me with a strange and unfamiliar look, framed by thick lashes. The flickering lights cast her in a golden hue, her hair wild and imperfect, her cheeks pink from exertion. I was panting, exhausted, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from her parted lips as she too seemed to be gasping for air. Her face neared mine, slowly, as her body slid down further and further, the movement igniting my skin with more otherworldly sparks. I noticed the orchestra in the background had stopped playing, the crowd gone completely silent at the unexpected spectacle. In the distance I heard a clock ring out, announcing the official arrival of the Month of Darkness. My arms pulled her closer in response, the soft curves of her chest brushing up against me, her face hovering mere inches above mine. My eyes flitted between hers and her mouth, and I noticed her doing the same, her hot breath caressing my fevered skin.

"It's my birthday," I blurted, my voice rough from the strenuous dance.

Before she could reply another voice spoke out from the crowd, breaking the silence. "Happy birthday," said Wyman calmly, followed by a loud crash, a container of whale oil shattering near our bare feet — and I couldn't believe it; I couldn't possibly fathom that this had just happened.

"What the-"

I didn't give the High Overseer any time to finish, stomping my foot directly into the broken mess next to us, arms still holding onto Emily as tight as I could. The glass cut into my skin, and I immediately felt the volatile reaction as my blood came into contact with the Oil. I closed my eyes, focusing as fast as I could, one of my hands protectively wrapping around Emily's head. Everything happened in a fraction of a second — I heard the gunshot as the High Overseer tried to stop us, my heart leaping with adrenaline, causing my blood to race, spreading the whale oil faster. The lights above had begun to shatter one by one, my skin glowing once more as my blood filled with the explosive substance. The room was flooded with blue light, sparks of lightning shooting from my skin, the surrounding crowd quickly backing away from the violent display. Just as the bullet was about to pierce my skin I felt the familiar pull that tore me away from the mansion, the world warping around us in a flurry of flashes and morphed sounds.

The two of us tumbled down, bodies intertwined to keep from being separated, the smell of oxidised metal and burned charcoal leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. Cold winds howled and whipped around us, pulling at our limbs, tearing at our skin. I didn't dare open my eyes, afraid of being blinded by the violent maelstrom that carried us. We came crashing down with backbreaking force, the ground beneath us cold and muddy, our bodies roughly sliding down slick muck. Soon we came to a stop, and I felt the sludge stick to my skin, sand grating into the burns left by the whale oil. The air was brisk, leaving icy kisses upon my exposed flesh, raising goosebumps wherever it touched. My arms still enveloped the warm figure of the former Empress, the woman who lay motionless on top of me, her moving chest the only indicator of life for now. I figured she was feeling the same sickening vertigo as me, my mind spinning in the aftermath of our fall.

Behind me I could hear the familiar sound of waves lapping up a muddy shore, the smell of salt and sand all around, and nearby there was a rustle of grasses; the wind tussling them like it did my hair.

Then she started shaking, her body remaining where it was as her chest bubbled with laughter. I dared open my eyes, curious to know what she thought to be so funny. She raised her head, sensing my movements as I tried to look at her, wild strands of hair falling in front of her face.

"We did it!" Her gaze met mine, her eyes glittering with a relieved kind of happiness. "That was amazing!" Her hands wrapped around my face, a joyous smile decorating her glowing features. "By the Void, I've never felt so rebellious!" Emily continued to grin down at me, biting her lip as her eyes roved my features, hands holding me in place. My heart stopped when her face lowered, her soft lips brushing my cheek in a fast peck, leaving my skin ablaze with the memory of their touch. Her eyes met mine again and another hysterical giggle escaped her, before she rolled off of me, pulling me through the sludge with her. My body followed, and soon I was the one on top, holding myself above her on my elbows. Emily smiled up at me with mischievous delight, her hair and face caked with mud.

I gaped down at her in silent amazement, mesmerised by her joy, her radiant grin, all directed at me — me. I felt an elated smile tug at my lips, her happiness rubbing off on me. Her hands found my face again, soon traveling down my neck and pulling herself up by my shoulders, slowly lifting her face to mine. My eyes searched hers as she neared me, uncertain of what to make of her sudden boldness, my heart pounding in my ears as my pulse rushed through me with euphoric force. Her thumbs lifted to caress the sides of my neck as she held me, leaving a trail of blissful embers in their path. Her gaze had captured me and I found myself unable to move away, those almond-shaped eyes expertly pulling me down under.

"Happy birthday," she whispered, lips only inches away, her sweet breath igniting sparks across mine.

I felt my eyes close instinctively, heightening every little sensation she ignited within me, her slender legs wrapped around me as her fingers dug into the fabric of my shirt. She managed to rekindle all I had fought to repress, fuelling the smouldering inferno within me, pulling me in with her enthralling magnetism. I realised I wanted this, maybe even for as long as I could remember; somehow she was all I could possibly want. I set on closing the remaining distance by myself, yearning to feel her — taste her.

"Oy! Git out of thar ya nasty gits!"

Reality came crashing down, and I instinctively pulled away, mud splashing all around as I made a rough landing on my back, a small distance away from Emily. She stared at me with a look of bewilderment, before her eyes found the source of the sound. I followed her gaze, spotting an old fisherman a short distance away.

"Git home befor yer parents kno what yer doin' ya scoundrels!"

I found myself glancing back to Emily, who met my gaze with an equally flabbergasted look, before she bursted out in a fit of laughter. A rueful smile worked its way onto my face, and I found myself chuckling along with her, the former Empress all but buckling over in sheer amusement. A warm and strangely light feeling spread through my chest as I watched her laugh so freely, cheeks reddened and happy tears in her eyes. I wondered if this was what joy actually felt like, and I tried my best to remember the last time I had ever truly felt anything close to this. Emily paused her laughter to send me a look of mischief, her lips pulled into a playful grin.

"I like you like this," she spoke teasingly, leaning forward as her hand reached for my face, fingers wiping away some mud that stuck to the tip of my nose.

"Like what?" I asked, eyes following her hand curiously, watching her fingers swipe across my skin.

She returned the limb to her side, my gaze drawn back to her face, a small smile playing on her lips. "Happy."

Happy? Was that what I felt? I hadn't missed the smile that had kept tugging at the corners of my mouth, or the strange throb of my heart at the sound of her laughter. It was like a weight had lifted off my soul, leaving me feeling like I was somehow invincible, like we could do anything together. It was unfamiliar, and it scared me, worried me that things might go sour again at any time. The more I acknowledged my feelings, the more insecure I felt about everything. I had no idea how to handle any of this, and the thought that I might ruin this — might be the reason for her smile to disappear again — made me especially anxious. I felt lost, adrift at sea with no end and murky waters; there was no way for me to see what was below the surface, no way to truly know what all of this meant. My gaze was aimless, my body and thoughts feeling jittery and uncontrolled.

So I backed out, quickly pulling away from the only woman who had ever pulled me in. "We should get moving." And as soon as the words were out I regretted them, asking myself what I even thought I was doing.

The happy mood had been lifted as easily as it had been cast, Emily's expression suddenly more guarded. "Right, yes- you're right."

I nodded, trying to not show all the conflict that currently brewed within me. I decided that there wasn't any time for me to waste on trivialities such as personal feelings. Getting to safety first was far more important; everything else could be figured out later. Looking around I knew exactly where we were, and I also knew it hadn't been an accident for us to end up here. Somehow my subconscious had been able to steer us in the right direction yet again. I climbed to my feet, noticing Emily struggling to get up, her limbs sucked into the mud. I didn't hesitate to take her hand, her gaze immediately shooting to me in surprise. I didn't say anything as I helped her up, and she just stared, that strange guarded look still in place.

I really was a coward, wasn't I?

I didn't release her hand, instead heading for our destination without looking back at her as I pulled her along, allowing her no chance to question me. We trekked through the soggy mud, our bare feet sinking away with every step. The Wrenhaven flowed gently next to us, the soft trickling of water somehow soothing to my nerve-wracked psyche. The moon illuminated just enough for me to make out the edge of shore, a small vessel laying in wait further ahead. I knew Callista would be there, but what I didn't know was what she'd have in mind for me. My original plan had been to stay behind and clear the Empress's name, show that everything the Abbey had spread had been lies.

Callista had plenty of reasons to hate me, which had been part of my motivation for picking her, aside from her love and devotion to Emily and ties to the Abbey. I hadn't expected her to go along if I were to join; I'd been absolutely sure she'd turn on us. This is what made her behaviour all the more confusing; I now had no idea what she would think of me. Would she allow me to stay? Would she and Emily decide to drop me off somewhere and go our separate ways? The thought of being alone squeezed at my windpipe, choked me, and I unconsciously tightened my grip on Emily's hand. I would rather turn myself in again.

Inspecting our surroundings for a place to climb ashore, I searched for an easy way to scale the wall that separated the streets from the river. There were small hills here and there, but none of them high enough to provide any real help. My eyes caught a rock formation a little further ahead, and I was certain it would do. Pulling the woman behind me along, my eyes couldn't help but stare at my pale feet as they trudged through the dark mire. I was starting to suspect something more was going on, something I had no knowledge of. Becoming the Outsider didn't include a crash course on the Void; I didn't know all its secrets. The High Overseer had mentioned my father, and it made me anxious to think he played a role in everything that was happening — why had the High Overseer called him a pioneer?

Arriving at the rocks, I released Emily's hand to see if I could manage to climb the wall. I was taller than her, and even my arms were barely able to reach the edge above. I doubted she'd really need my help to get on there, but I still wanted to think she did. I ignored the part of my brain that told me I was showing off by taking the lead, and carefully climbed onto the steep edge before me. Checking to see if anyone was coming before turning back to Emily, I quickly offered her my help again. She took it with both hands, and I steadily pulled her up, watching her mud covered feet climb the side with practiced grace. A pang shot through me at the memory of her laughter, at her unrestrained boldness as she'd pulled me through the sludge with her.

I hadn't wanted to shut her out completely. "I like you like this too," I spoke as I watched her intently, her eyes locking with mine curiously.

"Like what?" She lifted her eyebrows at me in question.

It was impossible for me to keep the amusement from my face as I raised my brows, eyes sweeping up and down. "Dirty."

She gasped, and I couldn't contain the self-satisfied smirk that curved my lips, her hand swatting at my arm in a mockery of anger. Her jaw immediately squared in challenge at my amusement. "Watch your tongue, you wouldn't want the Royal Protector to hear of this." She poked a finger at my chest, narrowing her eyes to slits.

I chuckled, helping her to her feet, smoothly adding in another gibe. "Just wait until he hears how you got dirty to begin with."

Even in the dark I could tell her face had noticeably reddened, sharp eyebrows pulled into an offended frown. "You wouldn't," she warned.

Keeping to the shadows to prevent being spotted, I led her towards the docks where I knew Callista's ship would be waiting, our bare feet leaving muddy footprints across the pavement. "Are you asking me for a favour, Your Majesty?" I purposefully taunted her, sending her a smug look over my shoulder.

"I hardly think I need to, I won't be the one on his hit-list, Outsider." She raised an eyebrow at me as we walked, the surrounding streets completely deserted. The docks were only a short distance away now, and I didn't know what the future would hold for me — or us.

"I think I'm on every daddy's little hit-list, Emily," I purred suggestively, intently observing her reactions, enjoying her over-exaggerated responses.

Another gasp, followed by an offended snort. "Stop that!" Her hands playfully slapped my bicep again as I attempted to fend off her assault, raising my arms to stop her.

She was unintentionally compelling me to continue, curious to see how far she'd take her threats. "My dear Corvo…" I spoke dreamily, side-eying my assailant.

"I swear to the Void, I will strangle you!" She used her hands to cover her ears now, eliciting another amused chuckle from me.

"Not to be old fashioned, but shouldn't we at least try a date first?"

She let out a frustrated squeal as she jumped at me, attempting to grab me by the arms. I quickly evaded her, darting away before she could reach me, unable to suppress my laughter as she ran behind me.

"Come here you insufferable prick!" she called, chasing me, an exasperated grin lighting up her features again.

In an instant I was frozen to the spot by a dark figure that sat in wait near the docks, smile immediately wiped from my face. The Empress bumped into me as we both stopped in our tracks, her gaze following mine. There, hidden in darkness and perched on a wooden barrel, sat a patient Callista, waiting for us, sending us one of her strange and unreadable looks. I righted myself, taking a step away from the woman next to me, instantly self-conscious.

"What happened to the two of you?" Callista didn't sound angry, and that made me all the more uncomfortable.

Emily glanced down at her mud-soaked clothes, seemingly having forgotten about her current state of dress. "Oh- right, it's a long story…" she started, eyes darting between me and her former teacher.

I kept silent as I watched, eyes curiously studying Callista.

"Well… I'm glad you're okay," she spoke, albeit warily at first. "Let's get going, you can clean up inside." She stood, approaching Emily and putting a hand on her shoulder to lead her towards the vessel further down the dock.

I watched them go, unsure of what to do myself, fingers twisting my ritual rings again.

Callista paused, glancing at me over her shoulder. "Are you coming… Outsider?"

My eyes darted between the two women, not sure what to say or do, so I kept my eyes focused on my feet as they padded across weathered wood, following the two women down the dock. A thousand thoughts crossed my mind, different kinds of feelings flaring up and quickly dying down again. I was treading unfamiliar territory, and it somehow instilled me with a strange sense of paranoia — because why would Callista consent to keep me around?

Before long we reached the small ship, a wooden walkway in place to allow us entry. We each crossed it one by one, the ship gently bobbing up and down as the waves danced beneath. The smell of salt and damp wood was overpowering, the small vessel weathered by years out at sea. It wasn't as big as the Dreadful Wale, but it did come close. The inside looked like any ship, as far as ships went — honestly I had never found them all that interesting to begin with. I never understood the appeal of sailing; why people would spend extended amounts of time on a cramped pile of wood would probably never cease to elude me. Especially since I'd seen what happened when that particular pile of wood stopped floating.

Callista led us to a small but cosy cabin, connected directly to the ship's galley. You could tell she'd tried to make it feel more like home, small decorations spread everywhere. "I'll allow you two to freshen up, however I'll need to know where we'll be headed." She turned to us, perching a hand on her hip as she awaited an answer.

I glanced at Emily who stood only a short distance away, and she appeared to be thinking things through. "Wherever we're going, I need to go back to Dunwall Tower first. I'll be able to leave a message for my father in the safe room, at least then he'll know we're safe and where to find us."

Callista nodded, but I didn't miss her reluctance. "And then? What's your plan?"

Emily glanced at me, a frown on her face. "Well… I haven't really thought about it yet…" she started, teeth worrying her lip as she thought out loud. "The High Overseer found a way to channel electricity directly from the Void. I think figuring out how he did it might be a good place to start — the problems with the whales and the Void might be tied to it."

I knew there was only one place for us to look, one place that had to be the beginning of it all. I didn't like it — by the Void, I hated it. But it seemed the only way we were going to find answers was to look for them in the single place I hadn't been looking all this time. "We'll head for Samara," I spoke, a knot in my stomach at the words.

"Samara?" Emily turned to me in surprise. "What could we possibly find there?"

I found I couldn't look her in the eye, my gaze instead darting across the room, lingering on the strange little trinkets Callista had spread all around. "It's where the Eyeless grew into a cult." I didn't elaborate, and Emily appeared to sense my unwillingness to elaborate at this moment.

A short silence fell, and Callista seemed eager to fill it. "Lady Emily you can wash up first, I'll put out a change of clothes for you and then I can show you two where you'll be sleeping." Callista moved towards the hallway we'd entered through, gesturing for Emily to follow, sending me a lingering look before leaving.

Emily turned to follow but not without sending me a final glance, eyes searching my face, before exiting along with Callista. As soon as the two women left, I allowed myself to take a seat, my legs tired and painful. Only now did I feel that my body was starved and sluggish, the strain of the past hours finally kicking in. Adrenaline had kept me from feeling all the pain left by the burns that still littered my skin, and I now became aware of the excessive damage I'd done to myself. Sokolov had warned me of raw whale oil, had told me of its toxic and volatile nature. I didn't know the long term effects of my irresponsible stunts yet, and I certainly wasn't eager to find out.

The ship had started moving, the vessel bobbing along the water's surface. My eyes found the trinkets again, small collectables from every shore, mostly hand-carved figurines. Whales in all shapes and sizes; I knew Callista had always been fascinated by them. Footsteps alerted me to her return, her figure sweeping past me without a second glance. She was headed for the galley, and returned soon after with several cans in hand, setting them on the table next to me.

"I assume you must be hungry," she spoke flatly, before taking a seat herself, directing her gaze elsewhere — anywhere but me.

I looked at the stash of canned goods, a simple fork perched on top of the collection. I didn't know whether to take them or not. She was right; I was hungry. But at the same time I wasn't comfortable taking anything from her, my presence here enough of a burden on her already. It wasn't that I felt sorry for her, or remorseful in any way. What happened to her family was tragic, but not something I had a hand in, regardless of what she thought. My fingers fiddled with the ritual rings absentmindedly as I tried to figure out what to do.

"I didn't know gods enjoyed jewellery." Callista's voice was cold, but not hateful.

My eyes lifted to meet her stern gaze, and I almost felt scolded by her, before returning to the silver rings that decorated my hand. "They were part of the sacrifice," I mumbled, glancing at the canned foods again.

"What sacrifice?" she pressed.

My attention was drawn back to Callista, eyes searching hers warily. She appeared to be sizing me up, and it unnerved me. "The one that made me the Outsider."

Her gaze sharpened, mouth set in a firm line. "And who'd they sacrifice for that?"

I looked away, uncomfortable, my skin like an ill-fitted coat. "Just some street kid."

Callista clicked her tongue, leaning back in her chair. "It's always the street kids, isn't it? No one misses them, anyway."

"I suppose not, no." I stared at the cans in front of me, eyes tracing the logos printed on their labels, remembering exactly when they were designed and by who.

"Aren't you hungry?" Callista's voice was softer now, less confrontational.

I was. In fact I felt like I had been starving.

"You look like you are. Go on then, eat," she urged, sensing my hesitation.

I gave in and obeyed the woman, compelled by her strange authority. I took one of the cans, inspecting the thing for a way to open it. Callista observed me, her gaze burning into me. I knew it had something to do with the lid, I'd seen people pull it, but had never paid enough attention to know exactly where...

"You don't know how to open it, do you?"

I glanced up at the woman again, trying to keep my face neutral. "No."

She stretched out a hand to me, and I carefully surrendered the can to her. Her fingers wrapped around the tin, her other hand revealing a flap on top of the lid and bending it so she could use it to pull. In one move she peeled away the top, revealing the conserved meat inside. She returned the container to me, and I took it cautiously so as not to spill anything. The fluids inside danced with the movement, shimmering beneath the dim candlelight.

"Thank you," I offered, eyes not leaving the opened can before me.

Callista didn't reply, and I could feel her gaze lift off me when it did. I ate the food carefully, my stomach eager to receive something at last. Shortly after finishing, Emily entered the room again, cleaned up and dressed in all-black, reminiscent of what Callista had once worn during the days of the plague. Callista was quick to offer Emily a seat and some food, before urging me to follow her soon after. She led me to the washroom in complete silence, not once sending me a glance. She halted next to the doorway, simply gesturing for me to go inside.

"There's a change of clothes for you on the counter," were all her instructions before leaving again.

I closed the door behind me, and was immediately confronted with my own reflection. My hair stuck out at every possible angle, and my face was caked with blood and mud and- had I been looking like this all evening? I grumpily set on undressing, eagerly ridding myself of the disgusting rags. There was a washcloth on the counter, along with a vat of now lukewarm water. I carefully set on cleaning myself up, hissing as the cloth wiped across patches of burnt skin, the water leaving an unpleasant sting. It took a lot of effort to clean away the dried blood and mud, revealing my sickly pale skin beneath. I was gaunt, reduced to mostly skin and bones again. Sure, I was still more muscular than I had been before my stay in the Tower, but it was no secret that my physique had seen better days. It bothered me — which in turn annoyed me.

I wasn't one to be vain, but as I peered at the face that had been hidden beneath the grime, I couldn't deny that I had aged. Not much, but enough to be noticeable. New lines had formed that hadn't been there before, and I was certain I had spotted a white hair between my mediocre amount of stubble — a beard wasn't for me, apparently. How old was I even? I couldn't be a day over 30, but I certainly wasn't 20 anymore. Either way I looked like shit, that much was certain. No wonder everyone sent me dirty looks, I'd send myself a dirty look too. I rubbed my face with my hands, tired. With my luck I'd be as old as Sokolov by the time we'd reach Tyvia, and the thought horrified me — which, again; vain. Since when did what I looked like even matter?

I quickly relieved myself of my reflection, picking up the stack of folded clothes; all black like Emily's. It didn't take me long to dress, pale hands stuffing the disgusting rat corpse inside my new outfit, along with the shard of the Void. I was eager to leave the small washroom and focus on other things than grey hairs and Sokolov. When I re-entered the small cabin I was greeted with the sight of a lone Emily, who was absentmindedly ladling several servings of canned food into her mouth. She seemed to have heard me enter, her gaze immediately shooting up towards me, a smile brightening her features.

"You look good," she commented sincerely.

I didn't, and I could almost envision her potential as an actress. "I didn't cut myself shaving for once, this time the cuts were already there," I mumbled as I allowed myself to slump down in one of the chairs, eyes intently staring at the intricate pattern that was woven into the small tablecloth. I hadn't been able to fix the mess that was my hair, the dark strands seemingly having a mind of their own. I didn't understand how it had always been fine in the Void, but then again I'd been cased in stone so that surely would have helped. It bothered me that I didn't feel in control, for reasons that had never crossed my mind before.

A delicate hand wrapped around one of mine, pulling it towards the owner. My gaze followed the limb, Emily's thumb tracing the small scars that marred my palm. "I'm really sorry," she spoke gently, voice soft and meant only for me.

I stared at our joined limbs, her skin soft against mine, surprised at her sudden apology. "For what?"

She took a deep breath before answering, her grip on my hand tightening. "For telling the Overseer about your throat... I'm- sorry I wasn't stronger."

My gaze met hers curiously, searching the depths of her eyes in the dim lighting. Did she think I would be angry over something like that? My mind instantly recalled the way she'd pressed her lips to my cheek, how she'd been about to- had that really been her? Or had she just been overcome with relief to still be alive — and me being the only one there for her to celebrate with?

"Don't apologise for it." I found myself staring at our hands again, realising I was filled with questions, with whys and hows. "I deserved it."

"How often do you convince yourself you deserve every bad thing that happens to you?"

My eyes shot up to meet hers again in surprise. "What?"

She sent me a small smile, gaze darting between my face and our hands. "It's what you do, isn't it? Take blame for everything." She squeezed my hand. "Let me carry my own."

I could hear Callista's footsteps nearing, the ship having halted its course. I wondered, things I truly shouldn't be considering, if perhaps Emily could- I quickly brushed off the fleeting thought, my pulse stuttering in my chest.

"I've sailed the ship out of sight, the City Watch won't be able to spot us." Callista entered the room, not commenting on the fact that Emily wouldn't release my hand, even though I had tried pulling it back at the first sound of footsteps. "I'll show you to your rooms now so you can get some rest before we leave again."

Emily simply nodded before she stood, pulling me along with her. Callista lead us through the narrow passageways of the ship, the wood around us creaking and moaning. Soon she opened a door, a candle already lit inside.

"You can sleep here... Matvey." She instructed almost casually, her demeanour strange and distant.

I simply nodded, eyes darting towards Emily curiously. She met my gaze, offering me a small smile before wishing me goodnight. It felt strange to turn away from her, to walk into this unfamiliar room by myself — especially after being imprisoned together. My entire being felt immediately colder, my skin incomplete without the touch of another. The room consisted of nothing but a small bed and table, a round window allowing a view of the night sky. I allowed myself to drop down on the creaky mattress, my weight causing it to dip. My hands rubbed my face, careful not to reopen any wounds. My mind kept taking me back to that muddy shore, her hands wrapped around my shoulders, breath tantalising my skin as her lips nearly touched mine. So close...

What if we hadn't been interrupted? Would she have regretted it? What if it had just been spur of the moment, pure impulsivity? I lifted my feet onto the bed, settling on my side, eyes thoughtlessly tracing the patterns on the walls. If anything, there was one thing that had been made abundantly clear; I wanted her. In what way or capacity I didn't quite know, not yet, but I couldn't deny that I had always considered her different from everybody else. At first it had been for shallow reasons, simple reasons. It wasn't that I had thought her to be special right away, just different — just similar. I closed my eyes in an attempt to sleep, not bothering to crawl beneath the covers; I knew I'd most likely lay awake anyway.

I tried to work through every little detail of what had happened, my mind retracing all of our steps. She'd risked it all to get me to come, had been willing to put her own life on the line, not caring whether or not she'd be Empress again. The way she'd looked at me had been enough to tell me she meant it, and she hadn't seemed to regret anything — as far as I could tell, at least. Completely unbidden, my hands recalled the curves of her hips as they moved against mine, the arch of her back as she danced with me — nothing had ever felt as exhilarating, as addictive — and I tried my best to rid myself of these unwelcome thoughts. But my skin screamed for more, and my mind couldn't stop repeating every single detail, over and over again.

I buried my face into my pillow, my hands twisting into the blankets out of sheer frustration. She was driving me crazy, more than ever before. I couldn't deny that something had changed between us, and that it had to be at least somewhat mutual. I could continue to tell myself that she deserved more, better, but the question remained if that was what she wanted… Could she ever want me? We were free, and we would live. She was no longer an Empress, and even if she might uncover the High Overseer's secrets, there was no telling if the people would ever accept her as their Empress again, especially after tonight. If anything, we'd handed them the proof of their rumours on a silver platter. What would she do, and where would she go? Would she choose to settle somewhere and build a new life there?

I didn't need to be the Outsider to know there were a million choices to be made, a million lives to be lived. What I couldn't foresee however, was whether or not I'd be a part of what she'd choose to do. Even with me ageing faster than normal, I still should be able to live a decent amount of years — and even still, the total length depended on whether or not there might be a cure out there. What if I could live normally? Could we stay together? Would she want to? What if she wanted to raise a family with someone, and I had no place in it? What if Corvo wouldn't want to keep me around; he'd never particularly liked me. The only reason he'd put up with me was because of the whale oil problems. What if I'd lost my usefulness and he'd tell me to leave them be? They could rebuild their lives in Karnaca, Corvo had lived there before. He had a home to return to…

I lifted my head at the creak of a door, my eyes spotting Emily at the entrance of my room, barely visible in the light of my dying candle. I eyed her curiously, waiting for her to speak first and explain why she'd come. She hesitated, teeth worrying her lip as her gaze darted between me and her feet.

"Hey," she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

I raised my eyebrows, my mind racing with possible answers as to why she'd decided to come, and what she was here to do. "Hey." I knew I was staring, still unable to fully process what was happening, unable to believe she'd come here of her own volition.

I watched her square her shoulders, sucking in a deep breath before fully meeting my gaze, her hand lingering on the doorknob. "Would you mind if I stayed with you, I-" She shifted her weight again, eyes darting towards the flickering candle. "…I don't want to be alone." I knew she was saying a lot more than just the words she'd spoken, her body language allowing me to read between the lines easily enough.

A rush of blood, and my mind was back where it'd started again, filled only with the memory of her body against mine. "I wouldn't mind," I admitted sincerely, immediately feeling the air around me become heavy, my windpipe choking up as she nodded in relief.

My eyes followed her as she approached, and I instinctively made room for her on the small mattress, suddenly finding it difficult to just breathe as she lowered herself carefully. I had pressed myself against the wall behind me, my back digging into the wood, trying to allow her as much space as possible. She was facing me, resting her head on one of her hands as her eyes just stared me down. It made me slightly uncomfortable to have her this close to my face, suddenly self-conscious about the way I looked, and feeling incredibly naked beneath her gaze. It made it difficult for me to look her in the eye, my pulse quickening at her nearness.

She stared at me for a while before she spoke, her voice a soft whisper. "Everytime I close my eyes, I feel the water in my throat again," she admitted, her voice sad and hollow.

"I'm sorry," I spoke without thinking, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away again, trying to control my breathing in her presence. I knew she hadn't meant for it to be an accusation, but I still felt responsible nonetheless.

"-Except for when I'm with you," she continued, not responding to my soft apology. "I never think of it in your presence."

My eyes locked with hers, a small smile curved her lips and my chest tightened at the sight. I curiously wondered if that had been the only reason for her to come here, not missing the pink that dusted her cheeks. I briefly worried what would happen if Callista were to find Emily here, but somehow I didn't expect her to mind too much; I figured she'd seen enough.

Emily's lips parted, ready to speak, but pausing uncertainly. Her eyes searched mine, and I could see hers were full of questions too. "What would have happened…" she started, a frown pulling her eyebrows together, "...if you'd warned us?"

What would the answer offer her? I knew she was only asking it to confirm her suspicions on my intentions, if I hadn't made them perfectly clear already. I knew there was no more point in pretending, or in keeping everything to myself, but I still felt reluctant to tell her, mainly because I didn't want to use it to gain anything from her. I'd done it for her, but I hadn't done it to make her change her mind about who I might or might not be. However talking to her was something I couldn't resist, and I did realise I was tired of being all by myself for all these centuries. I licked my lips, taking a small breath before answering her question. "Corvo would have died."

At first she didn't say anything, eyes still observing me, face pulled into a thoughtful expression. Then she smiled, one of her hands reaching for mine, slender fingers wrapping around it. "Thank you."

I glanced at our hands, the limbs joined between us, my skin pale against hers. I allowed myself to weave my fingers between hers, savouring every little rush of blood the action made me feel. "Don't thank me." I frowned up at her, tracing her features, studying her skin.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she spoke, briefly drawing my gaze to her mouth. "Why not?" she asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

I shook my head, trying to make her understand, eyebrows pulled together. "I didn't do it to receive praise, and I don't want it."

Her hand squeezed mine, and the action sent a wave of heat through my entire arm. "You're not the Outsider anymore, Matvey."

The way my name fell off her lips was enough to cloud my mind and send shivers down my back, my heart dancing in my chest. There was an invisible pull that begged me to get closer, to envelop her until every part of her blended into me. I shook off those feelings, reminding myself to keep breathing calmly, to change the subject. I didn't miss the throaty quality of my voice as I spoke again, trying my best to ignore it. "And you're no longer an Empress. So what will you do now?"

Her lips had parted, and her thumb had started tracing circles upon my skin, driving me further off my mindful edge with every stroke. "Touché," she breathed, raising her eyebrows. "I don't know what I'll do. All I know is that I cannot allow a monster like the High Overseer to take the throne."

I swallowed whatever was about to escape my throat as she wrapped one of her legs around mine, scooting closer to me. My heart was pounding in my ears, as it almost always did in her presence, and I had to fight to keep my composure. "Then we'll expose them all." I rumbled, taking a deep breath to collect myself. "But, there's a high probability that, even if you manage to get rid of the Abbey, the people will still think you're nothing but a mad heretic."

She nodded solemnly, a few strands of hair falling across her face, her lips pressed into a serious line. "That's fine. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I had to fight the urge to move the hairs back into place, my fingers itching to tuck them behind her ear. "You won't mind losing your throne… forever?"

She shrugged, as if we weren't discussing her entire heritage being lost, and I wondered if she even realised what this all meant. "If the Empire will be left in good hands… then it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

"Why?" I lost the battle with myself, my spare hand moving to stroke the hairs back in place, the tips of my fingers tracing along her skin, lingering next to her ear as they tucked the hair behind it gently.

Her gaze didn't leave mine at the gesture, a small smile curving her lips again. "Because I would rather stand by my convictions, than sacrifice all I believe in for power."

My eyes followed my fingers as they softly traced along her cheekbone, down to her jaw, soaking up the feel of skin beneath mine. "History taught me the world favours the cunning over the honest," I cautioned absentmindedly, my thoughts only able to focus on every place she touched me.

"And my mother taught me happiness comes to those who follow their heart."

Her words drew me back in, my hand halting its movements as my gaze met hers again. "Is that what you're doing?"

She tipped her head as she moved even closer to me, her other leg also intertwining with mine, my arm now wrapping around her shoulder. She was making it increasingly harder for me to think straight, every inch of my body screaming for her, wanting her to touch more of me. Never before had I felt so out of control, so absolutely crazed — she was messing with me in every possible way, my breathing growing more shallow with every passing minute. "I don't know," she admitted breathily, and I realised she was just as confused and uncertain as I was.

I acted on complete impulse, my better judgement clouded by her maddening touch. I released my hand from hers, allowing us to move closer, my arm sliding between the pillow and her head as I tangled my fingers into her soft hair. My other hand travelled down her back, hitching my leg between hers as I pulled her into me, her own leg wrapping around my hip. I didn't miss the arch of her back at my touch, or the sharp intake of breath that passed her lips as I pressed my leg between her thighs. I pulled her head towards me, her cheek resting into the crook of my neck, the hand that had travelled down her back now diving beneath her shirt. I spread my fingers across her skin, pushing my palm into her warmth, my eyes closing at the electrifying contact, feeling her trained muscles move beneath my touch.

This was the closest I had ever gotten to anyone, and I felt absolutely overwhelmed by every little sensation, every inch of my skin flushing at our contact. My hand slowly travelled up again, carefully memorising every detail, fingers dragging along her ribs, her shoulder blades, the base of her neck, reading every bump beneath her skin and committing it to memory. She let out a soft sigh, her breath caressing my neck, sending shivers throughout my body. My other hand worked through her hair, enjoying the silky texture of those dark strands, fingers stroking along her scalp. She leaned into it, raising herself until her cheek rested against mine, her lips at my ear. Her hot breath further warmed my flushed skin, her chest pushing into mine, the soft curves of her breasts moving against me with every dizzying breath she took.

I was riding an absolute high, my breathing strained and shallow as her hands suddenly lifted my shirt, exposing part of my skin before hungrily traveling up my abdomen, one of them skirting along my ribs as it headed for my back. Somehow she managed to control me, my body involuntarily responding to her touches, her hands working unfamiliar magic as my spine curved to follow her movements. I responded by hitching my leg up further, spreading hers apart even more, her hips bucking into me and sending my body ablaze. Every inch of me throbbed with an all-consuming hunger, my lips tracing along her skin as I turned my face, breathing in the mesmerising smell of her that left my lungs starving for her like oxygen. She moved to meet me, eyelashes brushing along my temple, raising every small hair on my skin. The tip of her nose bumped into mine, her lips hovering before me, painfully close.

My eyes fluttered open to see her, to admire her graceful features. At that moment she too decided to open her eyes, her gaze dark and needy with hunger as it met mine, the tips of our noses brushing against each other. My heart skipped several beats at the sight of her, blood violently pulsing through my arteries, causing them to throb beneath my skin and spread a tantalising heat from my chest to my loins. It suddenly made me aware of what we were doing, only now realising the full gravity of our actions. If I were to close the distance, if my lips were to meet hers, there would be no more turning back. I knew I wanted to, my entire being screamed that I wanted this more than anything else. But I regained enough clarity of mind to wonder whether or not I was ready to take the dive that would unleash everything I'd fought to deny, break through my carefully built barriers like floodwaters. There would be no more room for denial — one kiss, and I'd have to face every emotion I felt towards her, forced to confront every human facet of my own psyche.

She seemed to sense my hesitance, pulling back slightly as one of her hands travelled to my face, fingers caressing my cheek gently — almost lovingly, and it awakened a painful ache within me, one I'd repressed for centuries. She sent me a small reassuring smile, hand cupping my cheek, thumb softy tracing my temple. "You look tired, you should try and get some sleep."

I couldn't begin to describe my relief at her words and smile, my eyes watching her in silent awe. She neared my face again, softly pressing her lips against my temple before ducking down and carefully nestling her head against my chest. Her arm wrapping around me, hand splayed against my skin. I rested my cheek on the crown of her head, arms encircling her slender frame. The heat that had consumed me only moments ago quickly dissipated, replaced my something more fragile and unfamiliar — leaving me to wonder just how deeply I'd worked myself into trouble.


	12. Dream

_"Do you see what you made me do!" His voice ripped through me, raw and violent. He slurred the words, his movements out of control and sluggish. "Look at her!" His skin was dirty and stained, reeking of something strong and sickening — his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, his nails dirty and damaged; neglected. The air left my skin cold and blue, the ice in it clung to my breath and turned it to a thick, swirling mist._ _  
_ _  
_ _I stumbled forward at the brute force with which he pushed me, hands and knees breaking my fall, the rough cobbles beneath tearing into my pale skin like stony teeth. Her eyes were bruised and swollen again; forced closed by his violence like so many times before — behind me I could hear him start to weep as my blood stained the dirty ground. It would freeze soon enough... red crystals to decorate the cracks._ _  
_ _  
_ _"You did this — you made me do this, boy," he took a shuddery breath, the rough stubble that covered his weathered features littered with glittering droplets, left there by his own drunken spittle, his lips red and glossy, "you did this."_

* * *

I didn't startle awake this time, my mind still clouded over by remaining drowsiness and my entire body wrapped in a broiling cocoon — no, I soon realised; this time something was different, this time I wasn't alone. Still drunk with sleep, I felt the beginnings of a drowsy smile lift the usual frown off my lips, my arms wrapped securely around the source of heat that warmed me to the very core.

I wasn't alone.

My eyes opened slowly, needing time to adjust to the bright light of day, but as soon as I shed the last remnants of sleep I started realising something was wrong. My vision was unusually hazy, as if blocked by smoke, and so it took me some time to see there was no one next to me, my arms wrapped around my own bunched up blanket. The realisation hit me hard, like a blow to the face, as did the discovery that there was no other source of heat; I was the heat. I was burning, my clothes damp with sweat and sticking to my skin. My surroundings danced before my eyes, as if mocking me, as if celebrating my shattered delusions. Had all of it been a dream? Had I imagined the entire night? The contentment I had felt earlier abandoned me as swiftly as my confidence in the validity of my memories. My murky gaze bore into the blankets, the pattern woven into the fabric bending and twisting beneath my stare — as if alive. My body scrambled to rid itself of the cursed cover, forcing it to the floor as I threw myself against the wall in a flurry of poorly controlled movements, my head spinning from the exertion.

My heartbeat was scattered and wild, the loud slosh of rushing blood deafening me, fresh beads of sweat pebbling across my pale skin. Out of breath and dizzy, I tried to calm myself, to recollect my thoughts. I was being dramatic — crazy. It had all been a dream, just a dream, nothing more, all harmless. The Void had poisoned my mind with nightmares and terrors for centuries — harsh truths and terrifying realities. I was better than this, I was stronger. I forced my lungs to fill with air, tried to calm my breathing and heart, gulped down on oxygen as if I'd die otherwise. Willing my body to move, I neared the edge of the bed, trembling hands gripping the mattress as I searched for the fallen blanket. But as soon as my gaze crossed the edge it wasn't met with the familiar crumbled fabric, instead focusing on a whimpering figure; skin bruised and purple, hair greasy with grime and sweat.

Terror froze me into place, my breath stilling along with my entire being. I felt the hairs on my neck rise as the figure continued to wail and moan, its sounds of absolute agony grating against my skin, disturbing enough that I swore I felt them cut into my flesh, tearing through my tissues and pulling out the very life of me through the newly-made fissures. The air around me cooled, wrapping around my burning body like an icy blanket. The figure twitched, its frame covered in old rags and blood, long, dark hair spilling across the wooden floor like cascading waters.

 _"You did this,"_ a voice spoke from beside me, the words brushing against my skin, smelling of decay.

I didn't look towards the source, didn't dare, didn't turn from the trembling figure, the suffering human dressed only in those foul rags and remnants of clotted blood.

 _"You did this!"_ Louder this time, the sound rough around the edges, damaged by years of heavy drinking.

I closed my eyes as another pained gurgle escaped the trembling heap, fighting to block out the chilling vision, wishing to disappear entirely, to be free of the tormented sight. A cold hand forcibly wrapped itself around the back of my neck, rough fingers digging into my skin accompanied by the sharp cut of nails, forcing me forward, towards the moaning form.

 _"Look at her!"_ The voice penetrated into the deepest corners of my mind, banging violently against the edges of my consciousness.

I fearfully opened my eyes, feeling a strange sting as I willed them to focus. The woman before me no longer wailed or trembled; she lied deathly still instead, her form as heavy and unmoving as rocks, gratuitous amounts of blood soaking into the wooden panels beneath. I choked on the acidic bile that now stung my throat, my vision blurring even further as I viewed the broken corpse before me. "I'm sorry," I heard myself whisper, the world around me spinning and swallowing the room like a vortex, blending colours until everything was red, only red. "I'm sorry," I spoke once more, crawling towards the still figure, my trembling hands met with nothing but sanguine waters, slowly sinking away as I moved. "I'm so sorry," I shook my head, feeling droplets of seawater run down my skin. The hand never released me, its nails surely leaving marks where they cut into my flesh.

"Matvey?" Someone called from far away, and in response the assailing hand forced me further down, my spine curling beneath its powerful push. The red waters rose and swallowed me as I was forced beneath their surface, soon drowning in what could only be blood, my eyes desperately clenched shut in an attempt to shield them from the swirling ichor. "Callista!" The words were warped by the flood of liquids, my lungs burning from the lack of air and begging for breath. New hands wrapped around me and pulled me back to the surface, my skin cold as I emerged. I gasped for air, coughing and flailing as I tried to grab onto something to help find my bearings. "Calm down," the voice was closer now, accompanied by those tender hands.

I blinked my eyes open, the blinding sun burning into my retinas, my chest dancing as it fought to fill itself with air. The red had gone and the ship had returned to its wooden state. As soon as my vision adjusted I searched the floor for the broken woman — only to be met with crumpled bed sheets, my legs thoroughly entangled in their folds.

"Matvey?" I turned to the owner of the voice, discovering myself to have fallen to the floor, feminine hands laid wrapped around my shoulders and I soon found Emily Kaldwin kneeling down next to me — her features gone pale with fright.

Just then the door behind her swung open, the familiar face of Callista filled with worry as she hurried to the Empress's aid.

"Lady Emily, whatever is the matter?" Her eyes darted from Emily to me, widening with shock at the apparent state of me. She swiftly bent down, joining Emily where she kneeled, one of her hands finding my face, firmly pressing the cool limb to my damp forehead. "By the Void…" she mumbled, eyes widening at the touch, gaze locking with mine. "He's burning up," she spoke to Emily, before turning to the younger woman, "help me lift him."

I wanted to speak, but my throat still felt blocked by rivers of thick blood. The air around me appeared hot, like a sea of fire and all I could breathe were cinders. They spoke to each other, but I couldn't follow the words they formed, had no idea what to listen to. I felt isolated, my skin soaked with sweat, my shirt damp and sticky and wholly suffocating. My gaze seemed to drift off, my vision gone afloat, lost without purpose. I faintly registered my body being pulled back onto the bed, its springs creaking beneath my weight. In the distance I heard it again, the song of whales, their melancholic voices cradling me in a strange promise of comfort. My eyes found Emily's, hers like flickering flames against the greedy darkness that threatened to consume me.

"Take off his shirt." I caught Callista's order as their hands quickly worked on removing the damp fabric, replacing it with the sheets which they picked off the floor together.

My eyes followed Emily wherever she moved, fighting to stay lucid, the edges of my vision lost to the growing blackness. Was any of this real? I couldn't focus my scattered thoughts, my mind was made up of splinters. My breath turned to white smoke, icy crystals, and my gaze found her hands — perfect limbs, free of decay. "You're clean," I croaked, my own hands wrapping around hers, "it's okay, you're clean." My breath stilled as the tips of her fingers turned black then, her perfect skin blistering beneath my touch, the flesh peeling off her pale, glistening bones.

"Matvey," she pulled her limbs free of my hold, breaking the hallucination and using them to cup my burning cheeks instead, forcing me to look at her. "You're not well…"

I shook my head as I gaped up at her, my hands wrapping around her arms, holding her in place, making sure she was really there. Anxiety held me in its freezing embrace, my frame wracked by shivers. How weren't they cold? Everything was so cold, everyone was cold. "No, no," I felt myself fade in and out of consciousness, my muscles twitching involuntarily, droplets of sweat running down my jaw. My eyes traced the shaken features of the woman before me, lingered on the teeth that worried her lip. "But it wasn't me, I promise." She'd believe me, right? She'd know. Surely she'd have faith.

"He's delusional, Lady Emily. It's the fever talking."

My head whipped towards the other woman, blood running cold at the strange accusation. "I'm not delusional! I'm telling you I didn't do it!" I protested, my hands traveling up Emily's arms as I turned my attention back to her, cupping her cheeks, thumbs stroking along her soft skin. "He did it — no one listens to me," I frowned up at her, her features strange and blurry, my limbs gone deathly cold. "Don't leave me alone," I added in a whisper, shaking my head, trying my best to ignore the dark figure that loomed behind her threateningly.

"Lady Emily, I don't think it's wise to-"

"I'll stay," Emily cut her off, eyes never leaving mine, "I'm sorry I didn't wake you." So I hadn't imagined her coming into my room? Good — that was good. I couldn't keep the relief off my features, but she was kind enough to ignore it, turning to Callista instead. "Do you have any elixer nearby? Or perhaps some medicinal herbs?"

Callista appeared reluctant to go along, visibly uncomfortable with Emily's decision. "Yes... I have some stored," she paused, licking her lips nervously, "I'll go get it along with some food..." her frown deepened before she finished with a final cautioning; "Be careful."

Emily simply nodded, letting go of me only to fetch a small nearby stool, settling herself directly at my side. Callista promptly left the room, but not without shooting a final suspicious glance towards the both of us. My eyes mindfully avoided the corner next to the door, the same ominous figure standing watch there, probably waiting for another opportunity to strike.

"Who is it?"

My attention was brought back to Emily, my gaze tracing her expression, trying to place it but distracted by the hand she wrapped around mine. I fought the urge to glance over at the threatening shadow, chewing the inside of my cheek on impulse. "He's right there," I spoke softly, nodding towards the corner.

Emily turned her head before I could tell her not to, but once I followed her gaze I found it to be empty, the familiar figure gone. She returned her attention to me, a somber look in her eyes. "There's no one else here." She squeezed my hand gently, her other hand smoothing across my forehead, parting the uncontrolled strands of hair that stuck to it. "You're safe."

"You left." My eyes still searched hers, trying to hold onto the image of her, as if it was the only thing to keep me sane, to help me stay awake. I felt clearer now that I had calmed, now that I knew she would be here and I wouldn't be alone.

Her lips parted, but she didn't speak right away, her initial response quickly dying on her tongue, her eyebrows pulling together. "I didn't think y-"

I shook my head before she could finish, a frown pulling at my lips. "I do."

"You're sick..." she sighed, averting her eyes from mine before speaking again.

Yet her voice never reached me, the blackness that had gradually swallowed my vision now snuffed out every noise within the room, until nothing but a high pitched ringing remained. The noise deafened me — but soon even that faded away, leaving absolutely nothing in its place...

* * *

 _The rising sun announced the start of another day, its warming rays casting the world in their golden light. In the distance I heard the bells that signified the start of the morning service, the church's way of propagating their religious dogma. The majority of the city would be there, occupying polished seats in the newly erected chapel. All in the name of some great unseeable being, some hearsay about dimensions and esoteric forces. I wasn't prone to believing such fairy tales — the world had beaten that out of me very early on._ _  
_ _  
_ _Ironic was it then that he was one of the leading figures, all cleaned up and sober._ _  
_ _  
_ _He hadn't sought me out, perhaps not wanting to be confronted with what he'd abandoned — or perhaps too ashamed to even acknowledge his past. Either way; he wouldn't be able to convince me. Men like him never turned over a new leaf, they just found new ways to enact their violence. In his case it was fear-mongering — scaring the people into worship. It was what he'd always done, wasn't it? This time without his fists, though._ _  
_ _  
_ _I took a deep breath as I looked out over the snow-covered fields. Nothing remained of the rich crops now that they'd been timely harvested before winter's arrival. In their place only broken stems and left-over leaves littered the icy land, all wrapped in a crystalline blanket. I knew I couldn't stay here. Soon the service would be over and my short window of opportunity would close. Rubbing my hands together— ignoring the bloodied bandages I'd wound around them tightly — I emerged from my place of hiding; leafless trees and bushes that would cut the skin if you weren't careful._ _  
_ _  
_ _The town was safer without its inhabitants walking the streets, at least for people like me. Society had been gradually changing, growing more hostile to those designated to the streets. It wasn't uncommon nowadays for beggars to be forcefully driven out or attacked — pollution they called us, nothing but wasteful vermin. The population had grown weary of the criminal underbelly that terrorised the town, blaming the poorest for their troubles. They were right in a way, but failed to see that the true offenders walked among them, well-off with their stolen riches. In that sense the presence of the religious zealots wasn't all bad, at least they cleared out the streets with their ceremonies. Easy pickings for a hungry outcast like me._ _  
_ _  
_ _The morning air was crisp, a thin layer of powdery snow cracking beneath my boots, leaving footsteps that would betray my short presence. I didn't waste any time picking a target, deciding on a moderate house near the edge. Rapping my knuckles against several parts of the wooden door, I soon found its weak spots. Taking a step back I prepared myself for a well-placed kick. Gathering my strength, I aimed at the door with everything I had. One loud bang and it was open._ _  
_ _  
_ _But what greeted me wasn't an empty home._ _  
_ _  
_ _The putrid smell of rotten fish hit me in the face, my stomach lurching at the scent. Covering my mouth with my hands to suppress a gag, my eyes scanned the interior. Flies buzzed throughout the small space, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the center of the room. At the dinner table sat a family, all gone limp like a sack of potatoes, parts of their flesh eaten away by rodents. Their empty eye sockets stared at me, maggots crawling in their horrifyingly dark pits. Before them the table stood covered in food, their plates still filled with rotten fish._ _  
_ _  
_ _They had died eating._

* * *

I was slow to wake again, somehow instantly aware of the hand that laid wrapped in mine, my fingers tightening their hold. I knew exactly who it belonged to without having to look, the feel of her skin already familiar, unique in the way it warmed mine. Pieces of my dream still lingered, like mud beneath boots. My throat felt dry, the air itself parching it further with every breath. I vaguely recalled what had happened the first time I'd awoken, the strange feverish delusions that had plagued me. Like the Void spilled into the world at certain places, now my dreams had apparently entered it too. It was a dangerous thing to be followed around by ghosts. Thinking back to what I'd been trying to tell Emily, I knew exactly who was here to haunt me.

"Shortly before I died," I croaked without opening my eyes, "someone poisoned the streams, killing off the fish. The newly settled church spoke of damnation — of bad omens and divine judgement." I found myself absentmindedly stroking a thumb along her skin. "But river mud oozes between every crack and crevice it can find, leaves gritty remains in its path." I turned to look at her then, and took note of her intrigued stare. "I don't believe in bad omens, Emily, nothing happens without someone willing it just so — I always made sure of that — and river mud does not soil the hands of innocents without reason. But it's easier, is it not? Ignoring whatever presents itself so plainly to us in favour of believing some otherworldly power might be at hand?"

Her gaze shot between mine and our hands, her teeth worrying her lip as she appeared to take my words into consideration. I couldn't help the way my eyes were drawn to every detail of her face, mesmerised with her ethereal flawlessness; her glowing skin and vibrant eyes, so full of life.

"The Abbey uses fear to control the population, fear of an invisible evil force; an outsider — much like the Eyeless did before they were known as such. Every cult starts beneath the guise of religion."

"You must be feeling better already; spouting incomprehensible riddles as soon as you wake."

"Perhaps," I breathed, feeling a shiver run down my spine, my skin still notably damp with sweat. "Or perhaps I'm trying to compete with your ability to riddle me into absolute stupor at any time."

There was a faint tilt to her lips that suggested a smile, barely visible, like the subtle pink that dusted her cheeks at the remark. "I-" she shook her head, frowning, her eyes quickly darting away, almost nervously. I studied her as she remained at a momentary loss for words. Instead she focused on something to her left, revealing a small tray containing food and a vial of elixir. "Callista brought this for you."

I sensed her discomfort, wondering suddenly about her carefully veiled nervousness. Narrowing my eyes I pinned her down with my gaze. "What else did she do?"

"Noth-"

"What else?" I pressed on.

Emily's gaze shot down to our hands, her fingers fidgeting with mine. "She had some questions... regarding a comment I made."

I lowered my head to try and get her to look me in the eye again, my hand tightening around hers. "And what did she have to say about your answers?"

Meeting my gaze she sat up a little straighter, lifting her chin before speaking. "She thinks I'm blind to who you really are," she looked away briefly, letting out a shaky sigh before adding: "She told me about her parents..."

I swallowed, a scowl pinching together my brow. "I can't save everyone, Emily..."

"Yet why do you constantly insist on saving me?" She countered sharply, her gaze suddenly hot against my skin.

I felt myself stiffen, now feeling suffocated by the blanket that covered me. "You're different."

"Why? Why am I different?" Her tone was meant to command me into talking, and I recognised it as her regal voice, reserved only for either the most serious of conflicts or family arguments.

"I- I don't know-" I stammered thoughtlessly.

"Why, Matvey?"

Why was she different? Why her? Why couldn't I stand the thought of seeing her gone?

"I..."

"Why!"

"I don't know!" I pulled away from her, righting myself against the wall — having already forgotten that they had removed my shirt, and immediately regretting the position.

Emily appeared unsatisfied with the answer and unyielding in her resolve to get one. "How can you not?" She asked incredulously, driving me further against the wall with a pointed glare.

"Because I don't understand — nothing about what I feel or think makes sense!" My fingers dug into the blankets that covered my legs, my shoulders squared in a folly attempt to appear convincing. I felt dizzy, the world around me starting to spin again, her stern features coming in and out of focus with every fevered breath I took.

But at some forbidden part of my mind it did make sense — and at that moment that precise realisation sunk in. Looking at her now, I had a hunch she might suspect it too; judging from her reluctance to further press the issue. Instead she just stared at me, her lips slightly parted and her skin subtly flushed. Behind her I watched the shadows move, that same haunting figure emerging from the darkness, its movements jarringly unnatural. I tried to move away from it, but was sorely reminded of the firm wall behind my back. My pulse quickened and the air suddenly became hard to breathe. Slowly, it approached, and with every step my instincts screamed louder for me to run away. I soon realised what it wanted from me, its menacing presence suddenly overbearing, almost scolding me for my refusal to face my feelings.

"Ma-?"

"Because you reminded me of myself," I offered quickly, cutting her off. The figure stopped, now an unmoving shadow at the edge of my vision as my eyes found Emily's again. She regarded me with a look of perturbation, her eyebrows raised in silent question. I shook my head, gaze darting away in shame.

"What are you..." But she seemed unable to finish what she had wanted to say, her large eyes just staring at me strangely instead.

My gaze traveled across the room, trying to avoid her questioning look but finding it impossible to escape her. "I could do nothing to prevent the assassination of Jessamine," I started hesitantly, licking my lips before proceeding further. "I know you know this, I know you have seen what would have become of Dunwall: a burning city. So I had no choice but to stand by and watch as the blade took her life and you were dragged away." I let out a shaky sigh, running a hand through my damp hair.

A sad frown turned those regal features into those of a lost little girl again, the one who wandered the Void without even knowing it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shook my head to reject her question, not meaning to excuse any of my choices. "I was dragged away too, you know — right after, I mean. Even though we came from such vastly different backgrounds, our experiences were almost the same." My hands covered my stomach as I recalled the blade that had coloured the unforgiving snow with her blood. "Except I was the one who led my mother's killer straight to her, and she was left unable to run because of me. I had cut away her only possible defence, the legs that could have carried her to safety." Images of blistered flesh and bloodied bone seared my mind, vivid as if it had been only yesterday, the smell of infection that had burned my airways still as strong as it had been then. "No human should ever have the power of a god. No mortal should be given the choice who lives or dies." I looked down at the palms of my hands as I opened them before me. "There are no right choices, Emily. Every decision ripples across time and has consequences no one could possibly foresee. No one but a god." I closed my eyes, willing my heart to stop racing and my head to stop spinning. "I saw... everything, but only once it was too late — once I couldn't save her anymore. It's enough to drive anyone crazy."

Her hand took a hold of mine where it rested in my lap, delicate fingers gently wrapping around it. "I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be," I frowned at her bitterly. "It was my own fault." I caught the menacing shadow as it shuddered wickedly in the corner, its dark presence chilling the air around me, filling my mind with poisonous fog.

 _You did this.  
_  
"You couldn't have possibly known..."

"It doesn't matter whether I knew or not. I damned her just by being born, and after her my mere existence has damned a thousand more souls."

"Is that really what you think of yourself?"

"It's what everybody thinks, isn't it?" I shot her a pointed look. "It's what you think, if you're being honest with yourself. You find yourself wondering; what if Callista's right?"

She averted her eyes, hand still holding mine. "Sometimes I just don't know what to think or believe anymore…"

My eyes were drawn to my lap, our hands joined in union there — for how much longer? "I can't help you with that."

She opened her mouth to reply when several quick knocks came from the door, followed by Callista entering. She shot us a guarded look, her gaze immediately drawn to our hands. Emily didn't move to pull away, the limb held securely in place.

"Why is he up?" Callista approached, immediately reaching out to touch my forehead. "Did you give him the elixir yet?"

Emily didn't seem to know who to look at, her eyes darting between me and her old teacher. "No- I... we were just talking, I hadn't-"

Callista withdrew her hand, promptly turning towards the tray that sat unused next to Emily. Picking it up, she sat down next to her former pupil, resting the tray on her lap. Unscrewing the vial first, she handed it to me without looking me in the eye. "Drink that, we need to get that fever down."

Taking the glass container from her without question, I hesitantly moved to drink the red liquid that danced inside. Putting the cold material against my lips, I downed the foul-tasting medicine in one go, gagging at the taste.

"Only a few hours remain until night falls." Callista took the empty vial from my hands and replaced it with a tin of food, the sharp smell of fish stinging my airways. "What do you plan to do?" She turned towards Emily, leaning back slightly as she awaited her answer.

I just stared at the two of them, strangely excluded from the conversation. Wrapping my fingers around a fork and using it to pick off some fish, I took a careful bite, minding myself not to spill any of the foul smelling food.

"Well obviously he's too sick to go..." Emily started, averting her eyes from mine. "I'll have to do it by myself."

"I'm not letting you go there alone," I protested.

Callista sent me a stern look, telling me to back down without the need for words.

"I have to. We need to leave Dunwall as soon as we can, the longer we stay here the higher the risk of us being found." Emily shook her head, crossing her arms as she spoke. "Besides, you'd only slow me down. It's too dangerous."

"Absolutely not."

"Emily dear, you've been up for a long time. I think it's best you get some rest now that you can. You'll need your strength tonight."

"No, it's fine, I'm fine-"

"Lady Emily," Callista put a hand on her shoulder, sending her a serious look. "I insist."

Regarding her former teacher pensively, Emily appeared to be mulling over the advice — which only served to fill me with dread at the prospect of her leaving. I put down the food in my lap, my hunger completely gone. "No, she can rest here, she can have the bed, the floor is fine for me, she doesn-"

"Finish your food," Callista turned to me, "I'll stay until she returns."

The words were meant to calm me down, but they had the complete opposite effect; Callista keeping watch was even worse than being left alone. I wasn't sure how her judgemental stares were supposed to help me get better in my currently delusional state, if anything they'd leave me worse for wear.

"You're right... I should rest before I go," Emily muttered, gaze directed at her lap, avoiding my pleading looks. "I-" she hesitated, chewing her lip before reaching out to squeeze my hand softly, eyes still averted. "Thank you," she spoke softly, quickly adding; "for your story."

I wanted to stop her, to convince her to stay with me, but I soon realised Callista wouldn't allow it — and, judging from Emily's sudden demeanor, she also knew this. "You're welcome," I breathed without thought, my stare still stuck to her face, searching her schooled features for any hidden clues. But there were none. And so she stood, thanking Callista before silently leaving the room. I stared at my hands in silence, the smooth metal of my ritual rings reflecting the light that streamed through the single window.

"You should finish that," Callista spoke, her tone strict and formal.

Glancing at the unfinished tin of fish, the thought of eating more made me feel strangely queasy. "No, thank you."

"You'll need a full stomach if you plan to help her."

My eyes shot up, locking with her detached gaze. "Why are you doing this?"

Callista straightened beneath my questioning gaze, raising her chin in silent protest. "Eat, or don't eat. You know it's not my problem if you starve."

My scowl deepened at her words. "I'm not hungry."

Folding her hands in her lap, she adjusted her seat, gaze directed at the discarded tin of food. Her lips parted but no words left them, instead she thoughtfully clicked her tongue, her eyes caught in a silent stare. She stayed like that for a few seconds before she collected herself, meeting my glare as she took the container, placing it on Emily's vacant seat instead. "Fine," she offered, "you should rest then."

Watching her cautiously I tried to decipher her actions, but found my feverish brain to be much too sluggish to really think, so instead I moved to lay down without breaking eye contact, my glare still in place. Callista didn't seem at all fazed by my effort, her gaze still as cool and collected as it had been. I quietly turned my back to her, and to the looming presence that watched me from the shadows. I knew my dreams would most likely offer no refuge, the thought of another trip down memory-lane filled me with nothing but dread. Still I closed my eyes, knowing Callista was right; the more I rested, the better I'd feel.

It took a while, but soon I felt my consciousness start to fade, my thoughts adrift like ships on a current.

* * *

 _The town had gathered, the people all packed together at the central square. Huffs and puffs of smoke arose from all over the crowd, the cold air wrapping its crystals around their breaths. I tried to blend in, but knew that if anyone were to pay attention they'd know; I was an outsider, a low-life beggar dressed in scraps — their unwanted waste. I knew I was just as unwanted, and thus I made sure to remain as inconspicuous as possible, my face hidden behind a ratty shawl and my wild hair covered with an old hat. If I didn't draw any attention I wouldn't stand out, everyone was dressed in the same faded browns and blacks after all, the only difference would be the tell-tale marks of the threadbare fabrics I sported._ _  
_ _  
_ _It was late in the afternoon, the sun already low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dirtied snow that covered the muddy streets. Hundreds of working-class boots had plowed through the area, mixing mud with snow and leaving a wet, icy sludge in its place. I could easily spot the robes of white through the sea of people, their light colour contrasting sharply with the dark browns that surrounded them. Whispers and murmurs came from all directions as I continued to move forward, ears perked in case I could manage to catch anything of interest. The men in white did their best to calm the anxious crowd, the smell of fear getting stronger as I moved further into the mass._ _  
_ _  
_ _"There is no need to panic," I could hear one of the so-called priests declare, his hands waving at the restless group before him, attempting to get them to move back._ _  
_ _  
_ _Around me I caught the disagreeing stares and whispers as several people started pushing to get closer as well, demanding answers. I was lucky enough to be small and skinny, my lithe frame making it easier for me to slip by unnoticed._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Calm down people, we shouldn't fight amongst ourselves." A new voice spoke out, stopping me dead in my tracks as I recognised it. My gaze snapped to the small group of priests dressed in white, only a short distance away now. "In the shadow of darkness one should not submit to it, turn to the light instead and embrace it," he continued. "These are indeed trying times, but we would do ourselves no favours by straying into sin — for I believe it is sin that has brought us here."_ _  
_ _  
_ _His words sent another wave of whispers through the crowd, the people around me all huddling together conspiringly. I pulled the scarf tighter around my face, paranoid I might be spotted amongst the ruckus._ _  
_ _  
_ _"What will we eat once winter comes?" A man at the far left called out, his words echoed by many more people. "Surely we can't survive off of bread and wheat?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _I watched as the priests raised their hands again, attempting to silence the murmur of voices. "We have sent our best messengers to the neighbouring villages to request help, but I fear that might not solve our problems yet," the familiar one spoke out again, his words managing to cause another outrage. Waiting for the people to silence before he continued, I used the moment to move away from the priests in question. "I believe it is damnation that has cursed us, divine judgement delivered by the ancient one, sent upon us to—_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Hey you, watch it!" Rough hands pushed me to the ground, the wet sludge soaking into my clothes as I was forced to break my fall. A silence fell, the people around me slowly starting to move away from me as I attempted to get up again, trying to escape their attentions._ _  
_ _  
_ _"It's a street rat!" A woman nearby shouted, causing the nearby groups to gasp in dismay._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Away with him!"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Chase it out!"_ _  
_ _  
_ _Hands started to grab me, pushing and pulling me in all directions, causing my hat to fall first, then followed by my scarf. I instinctively cowered beneath raised arms, trying to protect myself from the onslaught of people. Their voices continued to get louder, their hands growing increasingly more violent until I was dragged from place to place, muddy boots digging their noses between my ribs._ _  
_ _  
_ _Until it all stopped._ _  
_ _  
_ _I was on my knees, my eyes screwed shut and my hands above my head to try and fend off possible attackers. But they didn't come. Instead there was silence. Fearful the attacks might start again at any minute, I slowly opened my eyes, my vision taking a minute to focus. I noticed the people had moved away from me, and as my eyes followed the cleared out path in front of me they landed directly onto the group of priests, their leader staring straight at me._ _  
_ _  
_ _"You," he spoke as soon as his eyes met mine._

* * *

I gasped for air, launching myself to a seated position, my skin covered in cold sweat. The village was still there, at the edges of my vision. If I concentrated hard enough, I could see the faces of the people that surrounded me, glaring down with distaste.

"Guilty conscience?" A voice spoke from beside me, strangely feminine.

I turned to look, aware of my shaking hands. The face that met me however wasn't feminine at all, his robes white as snow, his eyes wide and dark. I gasped and flew back, my spine colliding with the wooden wall, the impact creating a loud thud.

"Woah there, calm down, easy now." Hands held me down, but like the voice they weren't rough or aggressive. The room spun around me, my head painful and mind disoriented. "Outsider?"

The word triggered a series of flashes, glimpses of events passed, memories. The glint of a knife and the feeling of blood filling my lungs — I was starting to calm, realising I'd been dreaming. I looked around again, noticing the white-clad figure had gone, replaced by a frowning Callista.

"Everything alright?" She asked, a hint of worry in her voice. I glanced down at myself, noticing how I was covered in sweat, my skin paler than usual. Looking back at the woman next to me, I flinched at the hand she pressed against my forehead. "Your temperature hasn't lowered one bit, even with the elixir…" Her frown deepened, eyes distant.

That's when it all clicked, all remnants of drowsiness and confusion gone, replaced only by stone-cold realisation. "My body can't heal itself," I muttered, vaguely remembering Sokolov's findings.

Of all things this shocked her, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Can't- wait, why?"

I took a few deep breaths to regain my calm, my racing heart leaving me lightheaded. "It's because I'm dead." Screwing my eyes shut for a few seconds, I attempted to clear the strange images at the edges of my vision.

Callista considered the words for a moment, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully, a hand absentmindedly stroking the side of her jaw. "If you're dead then ho-"

"Magic, Callista." Likewise I rubbed my face with my hands, wiping at the droplets of sweat that stuck to my skin. "Sokolov created a substance that allowed me to channel it in order for my body to heal itself."

The woman nodded in understanding, a frown betraying her remaining confusion even though she didn't inquire further. "Lady Emily can see to it being retrieved — if Sokolov still possesses it."

"Probably…" I mumbled into my hands, watching the woman from the corner of my eye as I considered what she said before protesting. "I'm going with her, though."

"I don't think it'll do either of you much good if you join her."

"I won't have her clean up my mess by herself," I parried, my hands dropping down into my lap, my head still spinning even though my heart had calmed.

Callista loosely crossed her arms, raising a hand to inspect her fingernails thoughtfully. "I don't see why it should bother you, it certainly never did so in the past."

The comment surprised me, and earned the blunt woman a scowl. "Well I wasn't human in the past, now was I?"

"Are you sure that was the only thing stopping you?" She questioned, pinning me with a hard look, lowering the hand she'd been studying.

I narrowed my eyes, leaning forward ever so slightly, my voice loaded with a dangerous undertone. "What are you implying?"

She mirrored my narrowed gaze, raising her chin at me. "My uncle joined the Abbey so he could track your every action, like many others he too was dead-set on uncovering your motivations."

I cocked my head, my scowl deepening. "I'm sorry to have to disappoint you, but like everyone before him your uncle never even came close."

"No, you're right," she admitted, leaning forward ever so slightly, "but I think I have."

My heart skipped several beats at the comment, my scowl suddenly gone. "What do you-"

"Having yourself set up for execution, just to clear some Empress's name? I'm sure she wasn't the first to fall from grace during your time as the Outsider. I've never heard of you doing a similar thing."

"Like I said-"

"Throwing yourself to your possible death just to make sure she survives? That's nothing short of selfless."

"I-"

She raised a hand to interrupt me, eyes observing me intently. "Don't think I don't see the way you look at her."

I was starting to feel hot, and somehow I immediately knew it wasn't because of the fever. "I don't know what you're talking about." My fingers twisted the ritual rings, wrapping around the cool metal again and again.

"You light up as soon as she enters the room, your eyes are always drawn to her, even when she isn't speaking." Callista continued, her observant gaze doing nothing to ease my sudden sense of dread. "You hold her hand like one holds expensive porcelain, as if afraid it might slip. You share a bed with her, yet you never take advantage of the situation — let's not pretend the two of you aren't both young and attractive people."

"What's your point?" I shook my head, another angry scowl in place.

"Dead or not, I'm fairly convinced that heart of yours still beats, and one certainly doesn't need magic to tell you're in love with her."

"You're wrong." There was no way I was in love, it was impossible. I was incapable of love. Love was something that happened to other people, had them make foolish decisions, made them...

"You're afraid," she observed.

I didn't like the direction of this conversation, and my feet screamed at me to leave, my legs itching to get moving. "Even if I was, what would it matter? It doesn't change a thing."

She narrowed her eyes at me, furthering my discomfort. "Then why won't you admit it?"

"It's-" I frowned, breaking away from her burning gaze. Pulling up my legs just for sake of moving them, I wrapped my arms around my knees, sending another glare at the woman before me. "Everyone hates me," I sneered, "you included, might I add-"

"I do," she stated matter-of-factly, as if it was common knowledge.

My mind was starting to ramble, my thoughts one big cluster of emotions and opinions. "-and she doesn't love me, so again, why would it matter?"

Something changed within Callista's gaze, a flicker of emotion crossing her face for only a brief second — but she was quick to school her features, her tone softer now. "It matters because it changes you."

I was left at a loss for words, puzzled by her strange claims.

"You'll do anything for her," she cocked her head, regarding me with that same observant look again. "You'd die for her… That," she raised her eyebrows, "is the difference between you being my enemy or my ally."

Callista had always been smart, even though it had not always been appreciated. As a little girl she had wanted to study cartography, but of course she wasn't allowed. She was taught how to sow instead. She'd ended up receiving her fair share of scoldings, mostly for sowing different topographic patterns into her expensive bed sheets. In the end she gave up, realising her dreams to be just that; dreams.

"I think you know how deep my love for lady Emily goes…" she sighed, looking down at the hands in her lap. "She's… like a daughter to me."

"All the more reason to hate me," I supplied, watching her from behind my knees.

"You and I want the same thing. I think we should try and focus on that."

"And once we've accomplished that?" I raised my eyebrows in question. "What then?"

"Lady Emily is no longer a child. I trust her decisions."

"What suddenly made you come to that conclusion?"

Callista sighed, tucking some stray hairs behind one of her ears. "I think you should eat. You've hardly taken in any food or water. Like I said earlier you won't get better by starving yourself." She changed the subject, obviously tired of the conversation. I watched as she retrieved another tin of canned food from one of her pockets, placing it in front of me. "Please," she pleaded, sending me a look of urgency.

I considered her suggestion, knowing she was right, but also aware of the queasy feeling in my gut, my stomach twisting in knots. She genuinely wanted me to regain my strength; for Emily's sake. I couldn't disagree with her on that, I knew that was what I wanted as well — which immediately reminded me of her accusatory words.

 _Love.  
_  
Could it be that I was in love with Emily Kaldwin? The thought had certainly been a nagging idea at the back of mind. Still, I hadn't even dared to seriously entertain the thought until now, always choosing to push it away or ignore it instead. I had no real experience with romantic love, but then again I had no experience with plenty of things I'd been forced to undertake these past weeks.

"Well?"

I was pulled from my thoughts, reminded that now really wasn't the right time to be considering them. "Oh..." I took the offered food carefully, my eyes mindlessly gazing at the contents before shifting my body to get comfortable. I ate in silence, my thoughts still mulling over Callista's words, deeply unsettled by her keen observations. Had I really been that transparent? Was I so easy to read? I recalled Corvo's observant stares, his seemingly all-knowing gaze always watching me — thinking his own incomprehensible thoughts.

 _"If not for the empire, then for Emily and me."_

He'd known something. If Callista had been able to figure me out in the span of a single day surely Corvo would have been highly aware of my possible feelings — assuming, no… knowing I'd already been taken with her, even back then. It all made sense now.

Somehow Emily had managed to lower my carefully guarded walls, to allow fragments of my old self to seep out — making me feel more human than ever before. She saw me for more than just the Outsider; she looked at me like a person, treated me as she would any other. She'd consistently believed that I was still alive on the inside, that I was more than a shell of the Void, a mere object for society to project their hatred upon.

I'd been drawn to her for all those reasons and more. She was my addiction, leaving me wanting whenever she left my side. She challenged me to keep trying, to dare take a shot at living. Was it really so wrong of me to want her then? And more importantly; could she ever want me in return?

No. Impossible.

Even at the unlikely chance of her genuinely liking me that way, I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't take away her chance at a happy and possibly normal future. We'd never be able to be publicly together, and perhaps more importantly, we'd never get to grow old together. She wanted a family, a daughter maybe. I couldn't give that to her. She would never be safe with me, and she also could never be an Empress with me at her side. She'd be left a widow at a young age... Being with me would end every dream she had ever dreamt — and I couldn't stomach the thought of being selfish enough to even consider it.

But at the same time I also couldn't just let her go. I knew I still had to fix all I'd taken from her already, she deserved a chance at the life she was supposed to have. So I would stay with her, for now. I knew I could never act on what I felt, for her sake— I told myself — for her future... A future I could never be a part of either way.

I realised I'd already finished the tin of food, my fork scraping along the bottom of the container. Putting it aside, I didn't dare look at Callista, too self-conscious after all she'd said and all I'd been thinking. So instead I turned away from her, deciding to get my final bit of rest, hoping to be able to forget about my thoughts as I slept.

Hoping to briefly forget the fact that I, a life-long outcast, had fallen in love with the Empress of Isles.

* * *

 _The sun now barely peeked out above the rooftops, still lowering ever further as time went on, soon to disappear behind the surrounding structures. Little did we know these would be the last rays of sunshine for months, the final light before the sky would permanently darken. He stood only a short distance away from me, his dark eyes wide with shock. The surrounding crowd held their breaths, waiting for their priest to speak, all curious to see what would happen next — what would be done to me. He quickly composed himself, wiping the shock from his features, securely hiding it behind a mask of confidence._ _  
_ _  
_ _"Don't you see?" He turned to the crowd, spreading his arms. "Our sins shall never be absolved if we continue our violent ways!" He spoke warningly, quickly turning towards me again, gesturing at me with his hand as he addressed the crowd. "We must learn to love all peoples! Be they our hard working labourers, or our so-called vermin." He slowly approached me, his white robe flowing with every step. "We are all cut from the same fabric, and we all shall return to the same Void from whence we came!" Coming to a stop in front of me, he carefully lowered himself until he was at my level. Our eyes met, and for the first time I saw him up close; clean shaven and sober._ _  
_ _  
_ _He reached out a hand to me, willing me to take it. "Come…" he spoke gently, and I hesitantly took the offered limb, "My son."_


	13. Burn

I awoke, instantly aware night had fallen before even opening my eyes. My skin burned and smouldered like hot coals, almost hot enough to glow. I tried to swallow, but nothing passed the dry lining of my throat but pain. I told myself to open my eyes, vaguely aware that there was something that needed to be done, someone I needed to...

"Emily." I shot up, wide awake at the realisation.

The room around me was dark, save for a single flickering candle. "She already left." Callista was still there, watching me.

I gripped the blankets, frowning down at my legs. "No..." Had she really left without me? A strange fog clouded my vision and mind, blending everything together until a single thought remained; I was supposed to go with her. My gaze darted towards the woman next to me, her face shrouded in darkness. I shook my head, more to myself than anyone else. "No." I repeated, more certain this time.

I wouldn't allow this.

"What are you-"

I lunged forward, throwing my weight towards the edge of the bed, uncaring about the mess I was most likely going to leave. The candle fell to the ground, the flame gone in an instant as wax seeped between the floorboards. I joined it, the bare parts of my skin sliding across rough wood painfully.

"Stop!" Callista called behind me as I forced my limbs to carry me, pulling at every handle I could find, propelling myself forward on sheer force of will.

With every movement my head pounded loudly enough for me to fear my skull might crack, but I gritted my teeth and willed myself to keep going. Stumbling, I made it out of the room, too fast for Callista to pull me back. I wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes, but right now I could care less — I'd been in worse states without them. My legs wobbled with every hasty step, desperate to bear my weight as they carried me out of the vessel as fast as they could. Shadows moved in the corners of my eyes, echoed voices bouncing off the wooden walls. I paid no mind to any of them, too focused on catching up with the only person that mattered now.

I didn't even stop to think about the cold night air as soon as I reached the deck, the moon now my only light. There, in the distance, I could barely make out the silhouette of Dunwall Tower. Without hesitation I once more launched myself forward, my heels digging into the deck beneath with every pounding step. Gasping for air, I greedily filled my lungs with as much as I could get, my eyes focused on my final destination; water.

A final breath, and my feet left the ship behind, my eyes clenched shut to brace for impact. A splash, and I had broken through the Wrenhaven's surface, my body now held within its waves. I floated within the cold abyss, cradled by the current. What met me, however, was neither silence nor the sound of waves. Instead it was them — the whales. Their song was louder than ever, washing away all other sounds except for my own heartbeat that drummed in my ears. Curious, I opened my eyes, blinking a few times to get my vision to clear and choking up as soon as it did. Staring back at me was an eye about the size of my head, its pupil following my drifting frame with an undeniably soulful gaze.

A whale.

Never had they come close to me in the Void, always floating off somewhere in the distance, my existence seemingly unnoticed by them. I knew that hadn't been true now, the eye in front of me shining with what could only be described as recognition. I wondered what it wanted from me, but before I could so much as move the whale descended before me, it's large body diving straight into the inky blackness below, revealing an endless mass of other whales behind it — all headed for deeper waters, clearing a path directly in front of me. There it was again, that flickering light in the distance, telling me to come without words, beckoning me to drift closer.

I wanted to gasp at the sight, but found myself choking on saltwater instead. The light dimmed as my lungs continued to cough up the ocean, desperate for air. I was drowning, I realised, and my limbs immediately spurred into action at the thought, fiercely fighting to reach the surface again. There was no surface though — no beginning and no end — just water.

The warm, slippery back of a whale suddenly forced me up; towards the night sky, its stars vaguely visible beyond the murky waters. I emerged from the seemingly endless depths, the cold hitting me hard and painfully cutting into my dripping skin. I glanced down at my feet, clumsily planted across the whale's back. It was moving, I realised, the wind whipping past me as it swam at a breakneck speed. I tried to see where we were headed, but the cutting winds made it nearly impossible for me to keep my eyes open. The waves around me were forced apart by more shiny beasts, hundreds of whales stirring and bursting through the thin watery skin of the Wrenhaven.

Never in my long existence had I observed a similar thing — aside from my recent journey across Kaldwin's bridge, which gave me reason to believe these events happened for a similar reason. I had witnessed many strange phenomena, from natural disasters to the nearly inexplicable — but this, this unsettling gathering of esoteric marine life, was something shockingly unique. It was almost as if they wanted… me.

But why?

I noticed the Tower's silhouette only a short distance away, and soon realised the whale wasn't about to stop. They were headed somewhere else, and if my memory served me right it had to be the mysterious light I'd seen below the water's surface. They wanted me to go there, but I couldn't — not yet. I had something else to do first, a former Empress to help. Ensuring her safety was my priority, and I wasn't about to allow a sea of whales to stop me from doing so.

Willing myself to focus, I carefully bent my knees, lowering myself above the whale. If I was going to jump I'd have to be especially careful not to slip and get myself stuck between two of the swimming giants, I highly doubted they'd notice my panicked thrashing if I'd be as unfortunate. Narrowing my eyes, I concentrated on the place I wanted to go; a neighbouring whale. Knowing the risk, I quickly drew in a calming breath to help slow my racing heart… Then I launched myself into the fastest sprint I could manage, the wind howling in my ears. My muscles burned with every step I took, but I pushed through the pain, gritting my teeth together to force my legs to work even harder. As soon as I reached the edge of the whale I knew it was time to jump. Closing my eyes, I felt its skin disappear beneath my feet, my body suspended in the empty air above — until it suddenly wasn't, a strange force pulling at my limbs, a crackling static engulfing my entire form.

When the sensations ebbed away I dared to open my eyes, noticing I was crouching on the exact whale I'd aimed for. I took another shaky breath as a million thoughts ran through my mind, my eyes darting to the place I'd come from. I'd teleported… But I hadn't had any oil to draw from. Looking down at the shimmering whale beneath my feet, I dragged a hand across its slippery dermis, feeling that same static I'd felt so many times before warm the tips of my fingers.

It was the whales.

Somehow they were powering my magic, their touch enabling me to use my abilities without the damage done to me by their oil. Stroking my fingers across the archaic creature's back out of sheer curiosity, I noticed how tiny sparks followed their path — my breath stilled, overcome by an overwhelming sense of liberation. Licking my lips, I shook the distracting thoughts away, forcing myself to focus on what was important. Searching for the Tower's tell-tale shape within the darkness, I noticed how much distance the whales had already covered, the dark silhouette barely visible anymore. I knew I had to be fast if I wanted to catch up. I didn't waste any time as I collected my thoughts again, trying my best to recall how I'd managed to pull it off the first time. Focusing on the place I wanted to go next, I clenched my eyes shut, spreading my hands against the large beast beneath. I took a breath, feeling the power enter my limbs, that same strange force as before pulling at me.

It was ecstatic, and I had to wonder if this was what all my marked had felt when using their powers — it was… addictive; my body hungered for more with every whale I crossed. Every single one of my senses felt heightened, my blood rushing through me with delicious force, my breath hot and energising. Each surge of power felt as if it was drawn straight from the Void, lashing through me with its hungering promise of eternity. Dunwall Tower grew closer with every pull, soon looming over me with its remarkable height. Crossing one of the final whales before reaching the nearest muddy shore, I prepared myself for the final jump. I relished the warmth that spread through me as I drew upon the magic one last time, its power lighting up my skin, filling my veins with euphoric energy.

Until the moment I landed. The foreign energy left me as quick as it had come, and as great as I had felt teleporting from whale to whale, I was now left feeling equally awful. It was as if all the life had been drained from me, my fever suddenly back with full force; my skull throbbed painfully as my knees struggled to carry my weight. I felt myself start to crumble, using a hand to catch myself on a nearby rock. Out of breath and unsure where to head next, I took a moment to regain some strength and observe my surroundings. I recognised this part, realising there would be an easy entrance through the sewers nearby. But I had to think; where would Emily go first? I knew she was headed for the Safe Room, but that didn't mean she wouldn't make any stops on the way there. She'd have to visit Sokolov, and I reckoned he'd be in the basement — he had to know one of us was bound to come, he'd written Callista after all. Being as smart as he was, that meant he'd be where we could find him, probably continuing his work until the Empress's return.

There weren't a lot of ways to get there, but lucky for me I had landed near one of the few. Urging my feet to move, I tried my best to ignore the way I swayed with every step, still feeling dizzy and weak. The strain I had put on my body was starting to take its toll, my feverish mind aware that I wouldn't be able to defend myself if I needed to. I didn't acknowledge the figure in white that followed me around, knowing them to be nothing but my own imagination, their haunting form constantly at the edges of my vision again. I didn't stop to think about how this might affect my stealth, or how I might confuse possible enemies to be nothing but my mind playing tricks on me. No, my feverish thoughts prefered to ignore these problems — all they cared about was getting to where I wanted to be. Still panting heavily as I rounded another rocky edge of the surrounding cliff, I nonetheless tried my best to make as little sound as possible. Every step I took was echoed by his, my brain delirious enough to think his ghostly form would make any sounds to begin with. My feet sank deeper and deeper as I progressed, the wet slopping sound that followed me around becoming increasingly louder. At this rate I'd be deafened by the noise as soon as I managed to enter the Tower.

But I didn't back down. I soon found what I was looking for, an old sewer-pipe that would get me as far as I needed it to. I was tall enough to be able to pull myself up and into it with ease, but my tired muscles burned beneath the strain nonetheless. Glancing back to where I'd come from as soon as I'd pulled up my legs, I noticed the white-clad figure had momentarily disappeared. Sighing in unexpected relief, I turned around to where I needed to go, the way ahead shrouded in absolute darkness. I knew these passageways like the back of my hand, mostly because I never quite could believe no one had used them to sneak in yet. They were one of the easiest ways to enter the Tower unnoticed. There would be a closed off section up ahead, sealed by only a thin plate of metal. It could be pushed out of the way with little effort, you'd just have to know its exact location.

 _"Look at you boy, all grown up,"_ a gravelly voice spoke from directly beside me, their hot breath brushing against my skin, leaving it feeling moist and sticky.

No. It wasn't real. He wasn't real. Move forward, keep going.

 _"You've always been special, haven't you? A real special little boy."_

I closed my eyes, my vision rendered useless by the unrelenting darkness that surrounded me. Meanwhile I forced myself to continue, to not mind the treacherous delusions.

 _"Your mother certainly thought you were — disgusting whore she was."_

My teeth ground against each other as my skin grew more heated. I mentally reminded myself that they were only words, they had no effect on me here.

 _"I suppose she must have been happy to die for you then..."_

I arrived at an intersection, my hands able to tell the walls were bent more outward here. I picked my brain for directions, remembering I was supposed to continue through the left pipe.

 _"That's what happens in your presence after all, isn't it? Love dies."_

Almost there, soon I would be able to leave the darkness of the pipes behind me.

 _"You think this Empress of yours will be any different?"_

The further I ventured, the more I started doubting whether or not this had been the right decision. What if I got in the way? What if I ruined everything?

 _"She's just using you. We're all using you."_

"Shut up!" My shoulder banged against the metal walls of the pipe, the entire structure moaning from the impact. Breathing heavily after my outburst, I tried my best to recollect myself. I knew it wasn't real — he wasn't real — but somehow his words still got to me, mostly because I knew them to be partly true. Shaking off those thoughts, I quickly reminded myself that none of this was relevant. I had come here with a purpose, and I wasn't about to be swayed from it by my own poisonous mind. Pausing for a moment to see if anything else was going to be said, I was relieved to find myself answered by nothing but empty silence. Feeling around the pipe within the darkness, my hands soon found what they were looking for. Careful not to drop it, I lifted the metal plate from its place before crawling through the newly opened space. My eyes were able to spot just the smallest hint of light in the distance, and I knew it had to be the end. I started moving faster, eager to get out, my hands and knees covered in old dirt and debris that had built up within the pipes — I paid no mind to the unpleasant feeling of grime against my skin, the smell of it strong enough to leave me feeling lightheaded.

I reached a vent at the end of the pipe, the room beyond lighted by only a single candle. Its light was weak and near dying, but it was enough for me to spot any possible threats. My eyes carefully scanned the abandoned quarters before using my shoulder to bash through the vent door. It took a few tries, the sturdy metal appearing unbudging at first — until it finally gave out beneath the force. The large plate crashed onto the hard stones beneath, shortly filling the room with ear-splitting noise. I sat and waited, fearing someone might have heard and decided to see what had caused the ruckus...

But nobody came, and I found myself releasing a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, an unexpected sense of relief overcoming me. Aware that I shouldn't waste any time, I quickly dangled my legs out of the opening, preparing myself to drop down to the floor below. Breathing in a calming breath before proceeding, I briefly went over the layout of the Tower in my head — if my memories were correct I would be entering through an old meat storage, its purpose lost when renovations to the Tower were done by Emily herself. Pushing myself forward, I made a somewhat clumsy landing, my head left spinning from the jerky movements. Using the backs of my hands to wipe the excess sweat off my forehead, I took a few more deep breaths in an attempt to ease my dizziness. Sadly to no avail, my knees still wobbling hopelessly beneath my weight.

Figuring this was as good as it was going to get, I headed for the door. I'd have to cross the kitchen as well as the underground bunks in order to get to Sokolov, leaving me to wonder what had happened to all the guards and other staff in the Empress's absence. Chances were the High Overseer had either taken the temporary command himself, or had given it to one of his sons. I found slight comfort in the knowledge that the Abbey wouldn't be able to take full control of the Empire right now, not with Corvo being away. The Royal Spymaster was to take the Empress's place if anything were to befall her, and as of now Corvo had not been linked to my presence... yet. I was certain the High Overseer was working hard to see Corvo dethroned as soon as he set foot in Dunwall again — but public opinion was a treacherous ally, and the people would not take well to the Overseer's rise to power if they sensed a coup had anything to do with it. Dishonesty never served anyone if it came to light, and it certainly wouldn't serve a man like Kinley.

I carefully listened for any nearby noises before opening the heavy door, cautiously moving to glance around the corner. I was greeted by a dark and empty hallway, the smells of fire and smoke still freshly present within the air. I didn't proceed right away, waiting a couple more heartbeats just in case, paranoid that someone might be watching me from the darkness. To my slight relief there wasn't anyone to be seen, the space ahead as empty as it had been moments before. I lifted a leg, placing my first foot in front of me, bare skin quickly soaking up the cold from the stones it touched. Another, and before I knew it I was out of the room. The sound of blood rushing through my ears was deafening, my heart hammering wild enough for it to hurt. I swallowed, and took a few more steps, minding myself not to make any unnecessary noise. With every step I took, the ground appeared colder, my skin starting to stick to the freezing stones. In the distance I could hear the tell-tale sounds of the Tower; guards on patrol and staff working to ensure all was taken care of. I released a silent hiss as I placed another foot ahead of me, the ground like ice beneath my toes. A shudder, and I mentally scolded myself for my frailty. I'd dealt with harsher temperatures, surely a st-

My eyes shot down as soon as I had taken another step, the floor suddenly burning to the touch. All background noise had faded, replaced by nothing but deadly silence. The sight that greeted me was enough to make my blood run cold; toes eaten away by the ice, flesh red and blistered, soon to wilt as decay coloured it black. I flew a couple of steps back in shock, losing my balance in the process. My spine met the floor with crushing force, my bones cracking painfully upon impact. "Fuck," I hissed, rolling onto my side, my eyes clenched shut in agony. Stars filled my vision, my hands aimlessly darting across the floor, trying to find anything to hold onto. I soon found a wall, my fingers desperately digging into the bricks as I fought to get back on my feet. The pain was overwhelming, my entire back ablaze. I grit my teeth in an attempt to pull through, dragging myself back to my knees as I used the wall for support.

I had to go on, I knew the consequences if I didn't — it was a price I wasn't yet willing to pay. Slowly opening my eyes, I was met with a shock of white. The hallway had disappeared, and in its place lay a snowy tundra, the winter winds howling all around me. I didn't look down again, knowing it would do me more harm than good to do so. Instead I pushed the pain to the back of my mind, forcing myself to get back to my feet. The ice burned, but I reminded myself it wasn't real — none of this was. I still knew which way to head, the layout of the hallway fresh in my mind. If I could just make it through, maybe I'd be able to shake off these plaguing visions. Softly hissing at every painful step, I trekked through the thick blankets of white, the snow crunching beneath my bare feet. The winds howled in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. I told myself it'd end soon, that I'd be able clear my mind if I could just get to the other side. Yet with every agonising step the winds just howled louder, until they no longer sounded like wind — instead my head was filled with wails that sounded uncomfortably human. My thoughts were becoming increasingly more panicked, the fear of wandering around aimlessly and at risk of being found steadily becoming stronger.

I had no way of knowing where I was going, no way to tell if anyone was coming. Another step, I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind — to no avail. The snow was still there, the winds and ice still biting my skin with their cold. I should have reached the door by now, but I didn't dare continue any further. The wails became louder — the cries of a dying woman. My legs struggled to carry my weight and my feet caused me agonising pain. I didn't know if I was going to make it, slowly starting to believe that all of this had been a mistake. I closed my eyes, trying to banish the awful cries from my mind and regain at least some of my lucidity. Instead the wails became even more intense, building up in a staggering crescendo.

And just when they were about to reach unbearable heights... they stopped.

All was silent again, and I almost didn't quite dare open my eyes, not yet. My heart was pounding away violently, my entire body burning from the fever. In this moment all I wanted was to be back at the ship, where delusions like these wouldn't cost me my life. But I'd been insisting to come here, thinking myself strong enough to ensure Emily's safety... As things were now, I would need her to save me, instead. Boots drummed in the distance, and my eyes snapped open at the sound. I was back in the corridor, my body wrapped in darkness again. My breathing was shallow, and I had to strain my ears to try and hear whether or not the boots were headed in my direction. Hastily inspecting the narrow corridor, I tried to see if there was any place for me to hide in. Of course there wasn't, and I knew my best option would be to try and run for the basement instead. Holding my breath as I gently pushed open the heavy door, I peered through the darkness that lay beyond. The sound of footsteps became louder with each passing second, and I knew better than to hope they wouldn't cross my path. Taking a deep, readying breath, I fought off the dizziness that threatened to consume me. Forcing myself to move, I darted across the darkness to the best of my abilities, my head pounding with every single step. My eyes had trouble discerning between shapes within the shadow-clad hallway, the walls and floor blending together.

I was almost there, one more door and I'd reach the stairs that would lead me to my destination, just a few more metres. There was a turn up ahead and the rest of the hallway lay obscured beyond there. I didn't know if anyone would be there, and all I could hope right now was that it'd be empty. But the footsteps had not stopped their approach, and my stomach twisted uncomfortably at the realisation that they came from where I was headed. Everything happened in slow-motion as my feet clumsily moved me across the space, my hand spread across the wall in an attempt to keep my balance. My own heartbeat drowned out all other sounds, blood violently rushing through my ears. I couldn't turn around anymore, there'd be no point. As I was about to reach the corner, I closed my eyes to shield myself from reality, prepared to be spotted any moment now. The footsteps didn't stop, and I was certain they couldn't be further than a few metres away from me, their tell-tale thuds bouncing off the surrounding walls. I froze, knowing there was no way they wouldn't spot me, stomach acid further burning my already sensitive throat.

But the alarm never came.

All that greeted me was silence again, and I almost didn't dare open my eyes, too eager to imagine myself elsewhere. But I knew there was no escaping, so I slowly surrendered my final shield from certain doom, my eyes opening hesitantly. The hallway that lay ahead was as dark as the one I came from, not a single living being in sight.

It was empty.

I attempted to swallow my nerves, but my throat wouldn't let me. My hands trembled at my side and my chest bounced up and down as I found myself gasping for air. My mind was playing tricks on me again. It had to be. There was no other explanation for the deserted space up ahead; there had been no one to begin with. Shaken by the continuous vividness of my delusions, I wiped a hand across my face, rubbing my eyes as if to clear them from their ailing perception. It wouldn't work... and at this rate I might not get very far either.

 _"I loved her, you know."_

I froze, my hands still covering my eyes. I knew what would greet me as soon as I opened them, and the vividness of it all made me wonder how fake everything truly was. Was this all really in my head?

 _"She used to love me, too."_

I dropped my hands _,_ slowly opening my eyes, greeted by nothing but darkness — realising he wasn't there. I was alone still. Not even daring to continue breathing, I immediately crawled back up, forcing my feet to move across the cold floors. I knew it wouldn't be far from here, I knew I was almost there — almost. Darting across the dark space, I tried my best to ignore the dancing shadows at the edges of my vision. I was surrounded by strange noises and unpredictable sights, but there was nothing I could do about them. All that was going to get me closer to my goal was to continue forward regardless of what I heard or saw. A risk, but it was all I had. It was all I could do for her. My legs stung and my knees wobbled, but I refused slow down even as my lungs begged me to. If I couldn't be stealthy then I could at least try being fast. Ducking and sprinting around corners, I felt my entire relief flood my senses as soon as I caught sight of the basement-entrance.

 _"Then you came."_

I gritted my teeth as I felt my eyebrows pull together into an angry scowl. I couldn't afford to lose my focus, I shouldn't let myself be slowed down. Leaping forward I closed my eyes again, adamant to let nothing keep me from reaching that basement. My feet carried me across the cold floors, the sounds of my skin hitting stone bouncing off the walls. If anyone was around they would hear — if anyone was around... I'd be found. But they'd have to catch me and the Void would freeze over before I'd allow that to happen. My fingers trailed the walls, eager to find my destination beneath their tips. The entire Tower seemed to hum around me, sounds seeping through the structure all the way from its bustling belly. I was able to hear maids walking around, cooks finishing up in the kitchen, the voices of guards in casual conversation. I shot through the arching hall like the blood through my own veins; erratic and fast. Not soon enough I felt it, the indent that pulled my fingertips across its curve, leading them around the corner. I halted, my breath stuck in my chest — I didn't quite dare open my eyes yet, too wary someone might be there, too afraid it might all be over.

But I had to.

Balling my hands into fists, I slowly took in my surroundings, reluctantly peeking through narrowed lids. I was met with the faint flicker of a distant candle, the surrounding space completely abandoned. Not quite aware of how tense I'd been, I felt my shoulders slump in relief. I'd made it. It'd be okay. We'd make it. I didn't hesitate to make my descent, damp feet slightly sticking to the stairs with every step. The cold air wrapped around my dampened skin, enunciating every drop of sweat that rolled down my back. I knew he'd still be here, the odds of him leaving while Emily and I were held captive were astronomically small. He'd know better than to doubt the Attanos' penchant for dramatic escapes. Still I felt a flicker of uncertainty nag at the back of my mind, filling my thoughts with insecurities. He could've been removed from the Tower by the Abbey, or worse…

A cough — old and wilted. It could be no one else. I felt my feet pick up speed as I hurried down, eager to round the corner, somehow almost relieved to see him again — nearly forgetting about my grudge. Sokolov had come to represent so much more these past weeks; he was the only hope I had at survival, the only one to offer me time, the one who could allow me-

"Sokolov." Only now did I hear the sickness in my own voice, the way the sound wavered with weakness. I stumbled, barely able to catch myself in time against one of his tables.

Sokolov turned at the sound, wide-eyed and pale from shock. He'd been sitting at his desk, the light above him flickering faintly, casting shadows across his hollowed features. "By the Void!" He sounded thin, as if all air had been sucked from his lungs. His shaking hand wrapped around the edge of his desk, the limb's papery skin stretched across unnaturally widened arteries. He was going to attempt to stand and instinctively I knew he shouldn't.

I raised a hand, urging him to stay where he was, before slowly approaching. "I need your help," I croaked, pushing myself towards him.

Sokolov watched me in awed silence, mouth hanging open unconsciously. "Where's Lady Emily?" He then asked, a worried frown twisting his leathery skin.

"She'll be here soon." If she hadn't been caught, that was. I opened my mouth to say more, but hesitated, eyes briefly darting to my pale feet. I hadn't allowed myself to think about it, instead only focusing on getting to where I needed to be. But now that I stood here, my skin sickeningly sallow, I finally felt it all start to sink in. "I think I'm dying." Something raw snuck into my voice before I could stop it, my gaze drawn to anything but the old man in front of me.

I could see Sokolov move from the corner of my eye, his trembling hand rising to stroke his beard as he let out a thoughtful hum before speaking. "You look sick — yes. Dying… however," he mumbled, his other hand beckoning me to come closer, "don't get your hopes up just yet."

I inched closer, not quite brave enough to believe his words, my hands unconsciously balled to fists. Sokolov took hold of one of them with surprising speed, his fingers wrapping around the limb with practiced expertise. He pulled at my digits, forcing me to open my hand at his command.

"Have you been in touch with Whale Oil?" He then asked, eyes darting up to seize my reaction. I met his gaze then, shocked at his accurate assessment. Before I could open my mouth he continued, having gleaned enough from my reaction alone. "Your skin is pale enough to be nearly translucent, which makes it hard to search for these kinds of symptoms, but if you look closely you'll see a faint pinkness — almost like a rash." He turned my hand around before our eyes, pointing out the subtle discolouration. "Knowing your current state and history, it's highly likely you might have been in contact with raw Whale Oil." He released my hand, turning away from me to rummage through a nearby cabinet.

I stared at my hand, annoyed at myself that I hadn't thought about the effects of raw oil more seriously — especially after Sokolov's warnings. I could blame my forgetfulness on the stresses of escaping death, which was probably more reasonable than anything else, but still I couldn't ease the anger I felt towards my own stupidity. I should have known the elixir wouldn't have worked — regardless of my unnatural state of being. I had caused everyone to worry about me needlessly, I-

"On a brighter note," Sokolov spoke up again as his hands held several medical supplies, "you haven't aged."

What?

My heart stuttered and my blood ran cold at the unlikely words. "You're wrong," I blurted out, confused, certain he couldn't be serious.

Instead the elder regarded me with a wry look. "You think you're dying…" he shook his head, "but you're the most alive I've seen you." A sad smile twisted at his lips as he reached for one of my arms, preparing the skin before inserting a needle connected to a bag of clear fluids. "I haven't stopped working on a cure for you, and if we're lucky it'll continue to halt the fast degeneration of your body."

I sat at a loss for words, staring at the swirl of fluids as it entered my blood, not quite knowing how to feel about the news.

"Matvey!"

All coherent thought left me at the sound of her voice and immediately my head whipped around to spot the familiar figure in the doorway. There, dressed in all black and with a large bag slung across her shoulder, stood the former Empress of the Isles — looking as alive and furious as I'd last seen her.

"Outsider's balls! what are you doing here?" She demanded angrily as she approached in a half-run, causing me to slightly shrink back against Sokolov's desk.

I wasn't sure what to say, too blown away by her sudden appearance and too startled by her open display of anger. Instead my eyes followed her as she approached, widening when her arms — instead of striking — wrapped themselves around my frame. She firmly pressed her cheek into my chest as her fingers dug into my skin, the impact of her embrace pushing me further up against the desk. I didn't know what to do with myself or how to react, my arm held to the side awkwardly to protect the needle Sokolov had inserted — and speaking of which, I couldn't help but glance to the side, secretly apprehensive of the retired philosopher. My eyes found his, and within those blue depths flickered an expression I couldn't quite decipher.

"I told you to stay behind!" Emily had pulled back already, set on bludgeoning me to death as her fist rammed into my chest at the words. "You could have gotten yourself killed, running around li-"

"It's a good thing he came to me," Sokolov interrupted the tirade, his fingers checking the flow of medicine as he spoke, eyes focused on the needle. "A wrong diagnosis would have been the death of him — and even now too much time might have passed for the treatment to be fully effective."

Emily's gaze had been drawn to the bag of fluids, different thoughts flitting across her features, never truly manifesting themselves into anything readable

"I'll admit, I'm very relieved to see you safe and unharmed, Lady Emily," Sokolov spoke again, his voice gone softer than usual.

I noticed how she tensed, her shoulders a bit too straight, her knuckles whitening just a fraction. Her eyes briefly dropped to the floor before glancing at me. "Me too," she admitted, her arms wrapping around herself.

Boots.

"They know we're here," I whispered, my ears straining to pick up on every little sound, my gaze flitting across the room as if I might be able to spot them through the walls.

"What?" Emily immediately turned to me, inclining her head in question, her eyebrows pulled into a worried frown. "What are you talking about?"

I raised a hand, using the silence to see if I could determine how close they were. A group was headed towards us, both guards and overseers; their boots made a different sound. "We have to go," I urged, pushing myself away from the desk, instinctively putting a hand on Emily's shoulder.

"Hold on." Sokolov turned away from us, quickly rummaging through a nearby drawer. When he faced us again he held a strange vial, its contents emitting a faint, white glow. "One drop per one liter of oil." He pushed the vial into my hand, quickly turning around again to retrieve several pieces of crumpled paper which he also gave to me. "Here's the recipe, if you're lucky you'll find someone to recreate it someday."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked warily, gaze flitting between me and the old Philosopher.

Sokolov ignored her, instead turning to remove the needle from my arm, his brittle fingers working as fast as they could. I was well aware of what the old man meant, and the prospect of what would come filled me with dread.

Closer — they were approaching quickly, our chances of escaping growing ever-slimmer. My grip on Emily's shoulder tightened as adrenaline started spreading through my system, every inch of my body on high alert. There was only one way out of the basement, and within less than a minute that way would be blocked — we'd never make it. I glanced around the room, searching for an idea, hoping to think of another way out. My gaze locked onto the table Sokolov had treated me on that fateful day of our capture, reminded of our sessions there.

"I need oil." I turned to the Philosopher, who sent me a questioning look before hurriedly shuffling towards one of the room's dark corners.

There he retrieved several vats, his old body straining to carry them, his breathing soon heavy and laboured. I let go of Emily to help him, lifting the vats onto the desk before uncorking the vial he'd given me.

"Wait — you shouldn't!" He spluttered as soon as he saw what I was about to do.

I bit the inside of my cheek as I pushed open the vat. "Too late," I muttered, pouring a bit more than just a drop into the oil. The thick substance hissed at the contact, immediately reacting to Sokolov's brew. Without hesitating I used a nearby cup to drink the highly reactive sludge, squeezing my eyes shut at the abhorrent taste.

"Halt! Don't move!" A voice shouted from the other side of the room, followed by boots drumming after it.

I shuddered as I felt the oil move down my throat, my body instantly responding to its electrifying presence.

"Hands up, Outsider!" The voice continued threateningly, prompting me to open my eyes and turn towards its owner.

There at the entrance stood several men of the Royal Guard, flanked by two Overseers. They all pointed their swords at us, ready to strike. I glanced at Emily and found her to be staring straight at me, waiting for me to do something.

"I said hands up!" The guard growled angrily, taking a cautionary step towards us.

Looking at Sokolov I noticed his uncertainty, his entire form gone tense, back hunched as if to shield me. I caught his stare and did my best to reassure him, trying to tell him to stay close to me with just my eyes.

"Why you-!" The guard moved, and I was quick to respond, immediately reaching out to drag Emily with me. I backed us up in the cramped space, the guard's sword bouncing off the floor. His eyes had widened, nostrils flaring in anger — but I could sense he was acting more out of fear. He lifted his blade, preparing to strike again. I glanced at Emily, making sure she was ready, then at Sokolov-

A flash, followed by several wet slaps. A chill ran down my back as my eyes were drawn to the sound. One of the Overseers had suddenly approached and struck out, his sword halted only by Sokolov, the blade deeply embedded into his hand. Blood streamed from the wound and I soon realised the sound I'd heard had been his fingers hitting the ground, the digits cut clean from their place.

"Get them!" The Overseer screamed, the surrounding men springing into action at his command.

"Run!" Yelled Sokolov, his tone drenched in pain.

I didn't hesitate to obey, pulling Emily with me before she could protest. Adrenaline rushed through me, my mind working at a breakneck speed, trying to focus enough to allow for our escape. The air around me had gone cold, or perhaps it was the fear that gripped me that caused the strange chill — either way I stumbled around the desk, headed for the back wall, praying I'd been right, hoping I had understood correctly. I felt a weight pull at my arm, and when I dared take a glance I noticed Emily had reached for the old Philosopher, pulling him behind us with all her might. A trail of blood coloured the stones, the sanguine liquids glittering in the buzzing lights. Our enemies were close behind, their swords attempting to strike at Sokolov, aiming to kill. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying my best to remember what to do.

A surge of energy filled me and I immediately drew from it, its crackling presence leaving me feeling light and jittery. There was a loud bang, followed by a bright flash. It was as if the world swallowed us, the brick wall before us crumbling down, taken apart by time itself. The surrounding lights flashed rapidly, some exploding and sending shattered glass through the air. I could hear Sokolov gasp in surprise, followed by the angry screams of our enemies as orders were barked at them to keep following us no matter what — apprehend us or die. The world before us danced as time further eroded the shore away, the large stones before us shrinking down, back into the sea from where they had once come. I kept on moving forward, dragging Emily with me, holding onto her hand with all my might. My feet hit the rocks, its jagged edges cutting my skin. I bit through the pain, my hand squeezing Emily's in an attempt to distract myself.

Behind us the stones had already started rising, growing back into their original shapes, hindering our pursuers. The waters of the Wrenhaven lapped at the shore ahead, its dancing surface shimmering mysteriously beneath the moon. I knew who lied in wait within those murky depths, their song a distant hum in my bones. The surrounding rocks echoed with the shouts of our enemies as they struggled to keep up, the rising cliffs forcing them to climb ever-higher. When we reached the river's edge we only had a short amount of time to think, all of us left gasping for air — Sokolov in particular. Callista's boat was a lot further down the river, the only way for us to get there now would be to swim, something I was certain Sokolov wouldn't be able to manage. I stopped and turned, my eyes drawn to Emily first to make sure she was still fine. Parts of her hair had escaped the bun she'd sported, now covering parts of her face. I resisted the urge to tuck the offending strands behind one of her ears, reminding myself that it really wouldn't be appropriate.

Which is why I looked to Sokolov next, surprised he'd even been able to keep up with us at all, although his torn pants betrayed he'd more than likely been dragged along instead. The elder was looking worn down and bloody, his damaged hand held closely to his chest, colouring parts of his beard red. I could tell he was trying to gather the breath and the strength to speak, but his lungs wouldn't quite allow him. Releasing Emily to turn and look around us, I was able to spot a small vessel containing crates and old vats of Whale Oil, its bow embedded onto the rocks. It probably wouldn't do us any good, its surface covered in tears and holes.

"I see how you escaped now," Sokolov rasped, now held upright by Emily.

I glanced at the elder but didn't reply, too busy wracking my brain for a way to get us all away from here. To use more of Sokolov's potion on the Whale Oil nearby would mean I'd have even less to prevent myself from dying soon. Perhaps if we could just reach the whales...

"You two better hurry on ahead," he continued, drawing my attention back to him.

"We're not leaving you, Anton." I recognised the angry tone of Emily's voice, knowing exactly when she had used it before.

Sokolov shook his head, prying Emily's hands off of him. "I can't swim in my condition, dear." He dropped his head, clutching his bleeding hand. "I can, however, buy the two of you some more time."

"No!" Emily squared her shoulders, looking to me for support.

But I knew Sokolov was right. Time is what we would need if we wanted to reach Callista safely. We didn't know if more guards or Overseers had been deployed to chase us, chances were the river would be swarming with them soon.

"Take care of yourself," Sokolov put a reassuring hand on Emily's shoulder, giving her a sad smile before turning to me, "both of you." Sending me a small nod, I instantly knew what he was asking of me.

Sokolov was a sick, dying man. Hand injuries were known to bleed profusely, meaning he had already lost a lot of blood and would continue to do so — especially if he were to put further strain on his body. He'd slow us down, and he knew he was running out of time either way.

"Anton, no, please, there has to be a way!"

My hand reached for Emily's again, causing her to shoot me a look of suspicion. I ignored her, instead focusing on Sokolov, silently sending him my gratitude for his help — for his loyalty. He nodded in understanding. "I have done a lot of terrible things during my lifetime, Lady Emily." Sokolov's voice was paper-thin, further weakened by the continued loss of blood. "Allow me to make up for my mistakes."

Before she could speak, I pulled Emily along with her bag into me, dragging her towards the river and away from the old Physician. "Stop it, Matvey!" She screamed, struggling against me with all her might, causing the both of us to stumble. "I'm warning you! Stop!"

I ignored her pleas, well aware our pursuers would soon catch up to us. As soon as the water was deep enough I threw myself under, pulling her with me, forcing us away from the shore and away from our enemies. Emily continued to struggle, her hands tearing at mine, feet kicking around in an attempt to stop me. We broke through the surface, and I fought to stay afloat as Emily continued to push me down. Gasping for air, I could spot Sokolov move along the shore, holding something in his hand, as the guards and Overseers approached, their ivory masks glowing a bright white in the moonlight. I stilled, and soon did Emily as well, her gaze following mine. The river around us splashed softly, its cold waters caressing our skin, welcoming us as we slowly drifted further away from the shore.

Soon the Overseers had reached Sokolov, shouting at him to surrender as the old Physician backed into the water, dropping the large item. Emily had gone completely silent as she watched everything unfold, allowing me to use her calmness to get us further away from the spectacle. There appeared to be a discussion happening, none of the men moving or even attempting to chase the two of us. I wondered what they could be saying, if perhaps Sokolov was making a bargain for his life. My eyes caught a tiny flicker, dancing atop of the old Physician's hand as he raised his arm.

Silence...

I watched the light, intrigued by it, wondering what he was doing as my legs continued to push us further away. Emily gasped, and I almost didn't realise the light was moving — falling. Into the water it went, and for a moment it felt as if time itself had come to a stop. Emily screamed before I could process what was going on, and as soon as I did I pulled us under again, back into the deep where we'd be safe. Below the surface I could still see the explosion, the waters lighting up and illuminating the rocky depths of the Wrenhaven. Suddenly I could see everything, the fire revealing the hidden world of the river. I glanced at Emily, and saw she was watching me, her amber eyes glowing in the fire-light. We floated there, suspended in an entirely different dimension. Loss clung to her features like an unwanted embrace, forcing its way into her heart — maybe mine as well. I found myself cupping her cheek, her skin gone cold from the surrounding water. She closed her eyes at the contact, as if that could shut the pain out, but I didn't miss the frown she fought or the slight twist of her lips.

I almost feared returning to the surface, knowing everything would come crashing down on us, aware she might hate me for taking her choice away. As if the universe somehow recognised my discomfort I felt the waters around us shift, accompanied by the familiar song of the deep. My toes bumped into something, and before I knew it we broke through the surface, all sounds of the world returning in full force. We sat kneeling on a large whale as the fire roared wildly, filling the air with thick, black smoke. Emily's eyes shot back open, trying to see what was happening, her head whipping around in shock. I didn't quite let go of her, half-expecting her to jump off and leave me. The whale that now carried us was headed away from the large inferno, its rubbery skin painted a bright orange by the flames. Emily's gaze was soon drawn to the burning water, and I could see the exact moment it all started to set in. I watched her break, and something within me broke as well once the pain and loss consumed her expression, revealing lines that only spoke of her sadness.

I pulled her into my chest, not quite knowing what else to do, and as soon as my arms encircled her she let out an agonised whimper. Her back started to shake beneath my hold, her sobs a sad and muffled sound as she buried her face into my chest. One of her hands spread across my skin as the other pounded against my chest in anger. Soon her sobs turned into curses, her fist still hitting me as she poured her heart out. I didn't quite understand why it hurt me as well, considering I had always hated Sokolov and still wasn't particularly fond of him. But with every curse and scream that escaped the fallen Empress, more pain seemed to seep into me, settling somewhere deep inside where it tore apart my rationality. I allowed us to drop into a seated position, but soon found myself crumbling, the both of us now laying down. Emily didn't leave my embrace, her fists still balled against my skin as she continued to mourn the old Physician. I rested my chin atop her head, closing my eyes in an attempt to suppress all I was feeling — but there was no escape. The fire continued to roar in the distance, reminding us of what had happened.

"I'm so sorry," I spoke into her hair, a strange numbness taking over me, all that had happened starting to weigh me down.

 _That's what happens in your presence after all, isn't it? Love dies._

I was tired... so tired.


	14. Waste

Water... the first thing I noticed were the sounds of waves breaking against firm wood, stiff boards creaking beneath the force. Then the birds, carried both by the wind and sea, cawing as they went. I felt a groan rise from my chest, my bones popping and cracking into place as I attempted to move, my muscles stiff and sore. My mind was slow and heavy, sluggishly awakening from what felt like a deep slumber. I didn't recall dreaming, which was a first, my usual sleep filled with unwanted nightmares and terrors.

"People always look so different when they're asleep," a familiar voice spoke to me.

I opened my eyes, my hand immediately shooting up to block the sting of candlelight, unprepared for its brightness. It took a minute or two before my eyes adjusted, and as soon as they did I immediately recognised the interior of Callista's ship, my room the same as it had been when I last ran off. Emily sat at my side, her hands wrapped around a book and her eyes focused on me. She was dressed in white, her skin as radiant as always, complemented by the light fabric. Her hair hadn't been restricted to her usual do, instead it fell down freely, partly framing her face, aside from the strands she had carefully tucked behind her ear. Stripped of every bit of her royalty aside from her posture, I found myself intrigued by how much younger looked — no, lighter, somehow.

"We've almost reached Samara. You've been out for almost a week," she added softly, eyes returning to the book before her. I had a hunch she did so to avoid mine. There was a weariness to her that suggested she hadn't slept much, the skin around her eyes slightly puffy, the loss of Sokolov still visible on the edges of her features.

"How-?" I croaked, my voice hoarse from disuse. I noticed I was wearing white as well, a clean shirt covering my wiry frame. All cuts and gashes I'd inflicted on myself after escaping the Abbey seemed to have healed, somewhat confirming her story.

"The whales helped us." She didn't look up as she spoke, and I noticed how her body grew increasingly tense. "You lost consciousness…" she shook her head, gaze darting towards the window.

The skies outside were dark, and if I had to guess I would say it was probably evening, even though I realised was no way to be certain. My eyes traced the outlines of her profile, the sharp silhouette of her jaw, the rounded edges of her lips. She was being vague, but for some reason that didn't interest me as much as it should. "You're not angry with me?" I asked, almost breathlessly, unable to stop myself even though I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know.

She shrugged, tilting her head at me, gaze locking with mine again. "For what?" She asked, her lips pulled into a straight line. "It was my fault."

The drowsiness that had clung to me was immediately washed away by her words, all traces of sleep gone from my mind. I raised myself onto one of my elbows, looking at her to elaborate. "What do you mean?"

Her teeth started worrying her lip as she looked away once more, lowering the book into her lap. I tried to read her gaze, leaning slightly closer in an attempt to draw her eyes back in. She remained silent for a while, perhaps considering how to tell me whatever it was that seemed to be bothering her so much.

"Emily?" I tipped my head in question and her eyes flitted back to mine, those amber depths swimming with unspoken thoughts.

She reached behind her then, and I recognised the bag she'd been carrying back in the Tower. Rummaging through it, she retrieved an unfamiliar package. Setting it atop of her opened book, her fingers started fumbling with the paper. "I… found these…" her gaze dropped to the bundle in her lap, her hands slowly working on opening the paper wrappings. "I didn't want them to have them, I-" she paused, closing her eyes for a short moment and drawing in a quick breath. "It didn't feel right… Even though I knew I shouldn't…"

I frowned, confused as to what she was talking about, my gaze flicking over to the bundle in her lap curiously.

"They had taken everything from your room, guarding it. I knew the risks of stealing it back — I knew it might alert them of my presence." She removed the outer wrappings, revealing a small stack of parchments, somehow familiar in shape and size. "I took it back anyway… and they must have followed me." She sighed, clenching her eyes shut for a moment as she bit back whatever she was feeling. "She was really pretty, you know?" She turned to smile down at the stack, taking another shaky breath before looking at me. I met her gaze, noticing how her eyes appeared foggy, her eyebrows pulled into a sad frown. "You look so much like her," she whispered as her lips pulled into a forlorn smile, her fingers wrapping around the bundle and reaching out to offer them to me.

My stare traveled down, hesitant to see what she was holding, my heart beating in my throat. I instantly recognised the mesh of lines, the dark charcoal carefully and almost lovingly pressed onto the paper. I unconsciously drew back from those familiar features, pushed away by those piercing eyes and the similar bone structure. My gaze darted between Emily and what she was offering me, parting my lips to say something but unable to find the words. I started feeling dizzy, the room suddenly too small, too much like a prison. I felt the urge to leave, to allow myself more space; more room to think. Without realising I had already started to move and Emily — quick to spot my intentions — took a hold of my arm, keeping me from getting up.

"Please." Her voice was soft, layered with something I could feel but couldn't name. Her hand squeezed my arm, her glistening eyes tracing my features. "Stay."

I glanced down at the hand that held me into place before meeting her pleading gaze. I stared at her, almost as if seeing her for the first time again. I'd always thought her to be beautiful, hauntingly so — from her warm, almond shaped eyes to her sharp nose and full lips, she had a way of making me forget all about my own thoughts. Without warning, everything hit me; every single feeling I felt in her company and had tried to deny ever since escaping the Void — ever since becoming human. It was overwhelming, frightening, exhilarating — it was everything all at once yet not a single thing at all. I had died a thousand deaths and lived a thousand lives, but I had never felt so utterly overcome with such unadulterated humanity. I wanted to cry, laugh, scream, curse — I wanted… I wanted to-

Nothing mattered — Nothing ever lasted but the electrifying touch of her skin as my hand cupped her cheek, as my lips captured hers and moulded against them, as my other hand slipped into the inviting warmth of her hair, as my fingers wove through those dark and silky strands. She tasted like the early promise of crisp morning-dew and sweet honey — of playful dares and loving whispers, and my heart swelled at the rich expanse of emotions she evoked within me. Nothing would ever compare to the maddening way my heart jolted me to keep going, to deepen the kiss and taste more of the delicious way her soft lips moved against mine. Her hair tickled my skin and her lashes briefly dusted my cheek, so soft and subtle yet so inexplicably full of life itself. She let out a small whimper, opening up her mouth for me as her hands let go of what they were holding before pushing up my chest and wrapping around my shoulders, traveling up the sides of my neck to cradle my jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I drank up every little titillating sound she made, finding myself moaning in response as I pulled her closer — as I grew bolder, hungrier, and harder — wanting to wrap her legs around me and-

 _You think this Empress of yours will be any different?_

The words hit me with their chill like arctic winds, whipping at me until the hurt forced me to pull away. "I'm sorry!" My back hit the wall behind me as I futilely tried to undo what mistakes I'd just made. I tried to breathe but the air just wouldn't enter my lungs, instead there was water, oceans of it — crashing and churning and filling my intestines until I was certain they might explode. All I wanted was air, all I needed was to breathe, but the longer I stayed the more I felt like I was about to choke. It all happened too fast, too sudden, and before Emily could react I had stumbled out of the room, the surrounding walls my only support to keep me upright and going as my knees turned to jelly.

What had I done?

My run slowed to a walk, my gaze unfocused as my mind replayed the events over and over again; the warm touch of her skin, the intoxicating feel of her lips, the enticing sounds of her-

What had I done?

I was headed for the deck, eager to feel the wind against my skin instead of the lingering memory of her touch, aching to forget just how incredibly good she had made me feel. It hurt, everything hurt — I had long forgotten the physical ache of emotions and it opened up a whole new perception of the world, of the people I had observed for so long. It had been the missing piece to my humanity, the only thing to keep me from being like everybody else. I desperately wished I could take it all back, revert everything to how things had been before I had lost control. I reached the door, slamming my hand against it, closing my eyes as I pushed it open, desperate for release.

The cold that hit me was staggering, causing me to pause in the doorway. Opening my eyes, I quickly realised the sight that greeted me was shockingly familiar; white snowy mountains surrounded by icy waters. The sea of pine trees that covered the land swallowed what little remaining light there was within their bristly branches, hiding whatever roamed inside their depths. All worries momentarily melted off of me as I stared at the passing landscape, my breath stuck in my throat. Pushing open the door even further, I slowly took my first step out onto the deck. Snow had already covered the wooden planks, my bare feet sinking into the firm blanket, soaking up the cold. It was the first time my skin actually touched real snow again, reminded of the soft crunch as I pressed down on it. The cold stung, but I didn't mind, too overcome by a sense of nostalgia as I watched the familiar mountains roll by.

"I see someone's awake." Callista stood near the edge of the deck, engulfed by the surrounding darkness and dressed in a thick winter coat.

I was shaken by her unexpected presence, my head whipping towards her before I could mask my shock.

"Don't act so surprised," she chaffed, "it's my boat." She shook her head before turning back towards the waters, much to my relief. I briefly wondered what she was doing, soon noticing the familiar splash of whales, realising they were still with us. Callista watched them as they swam alongside the boat, creating large waves as their large bodies cut through the waters — they were making us go faster.

I remained frozen to the spot, caught between a rock and a hard place. I knew that if I turned back, my chances of running into Emily… alone, would be very high. But then again, if I stayed, chances of Callista knowing something happened as soon as Emily joined us would also be very high. But at least then I could count on the fact that Emily wouldn't want Callista to know, because if Callista knew… then Corvo would know. We wouldn't want that, right? Surely Emily wouldn't want that. Images of Corvo the assassin flooded my mind; I vividly recalled the size of his hands and how easily they would fit my neck.

"Matvey!" Just then Emily decided to show up, seemingly unaware of Callista's presence right around the corner. She was out of breath, gasping for air as she had probably sprinted after me, her body out of shape from our imprisonment.

My back stiffened, my skin inexplicably cold and sweaty. I instinctively raised a hand, hoping she'd understand that as a cue for 'don't talk about it', but instead I caught the quick breath she took before bombarding me with her thoughts.

"Listen, I just want to talk, I'm really sorry if I gave you the wrong impression or-"

"Is that Lady Emily?" Callista turned towards me again, her eyes trying to glance past me curiously.

The girl behind me quickly swallowed whatever she was about to say, cutting off mid-sentence awkwardly. I let out an inaudible sigh of relief, grateful Callista had spoken up in time. I watched as she started her approach, her boots crunching across the snow-covered deck, my gaze purposefully ignoring the waiting girl behind me.

"Oh, you're not wearing any shoes!" Emily blurted, catching me off-guard and causing me to forget I really shouldn't look at her — instantly regretting it once I did. The cold had already embraced her skin, causing a soft pink to dust her cheeks and… lips — which were still slightly swollen. "Come on, it's not healthy, you could get sick again," she protested, hesitantly pulling my sleeve to urge me to move.

I was starting to feel lightheaded enough to fear I might collapse if I didn't pull myself together in time, all of my nerves and fears working together to drive my heart into what could only be described as insanity. I didn't recall deciding to move, but soon found myself back in the interior of the ship, my feet relieved of the sting of ice. Before me stood the former Empress, her cheeks still unusually rosy — which caused me to wonder if it actually had anything to do with the cold at all. She parted her lips again, about to speak when Callista entered the small space as well.

"There you are!" She spoke, her eyes darting between the both of us suspiciously. "We're about to hit port," she rubbed her hands together, trying to warm her skin after standing out in the cold for who knew how long, "we should discuss our plans with the Outsider now that we can."

I averted my gaze, staring at a nearby wall instead of the people that surrounded me. My hands were balled into fists at my side, unconsciously clenching and unclenching them to try and ease my nerves.

"Ah, yes, of course..." Emily quickly responded, letting go of my sleeve as she appeared at a loss for words after that, an awkward silence causing the air to feel thick and stuffy.

"Are you alright?" Callista's keen senses had rarely failed her, and I immediately knew we'd be in some sort of trouble soon — if not now — as the perceptive woman had picked up on our discomfort right away.

"No — no, I'm fine." Emily assured her, and I could feel Callista's gaze burn into my skin.

I remained silent, noticing how the waves outside seemed unusually loud.

"O… kay," Callista muttered, letting the palpable tension that clung to us slide for now. "Let's go then," she offered, quickly adding: "I'm sure you're hungry."

A hand was placed on one of my shoulders, forcing me to walk along, my surprised gaze finding it was Callista who pushed me forward before I could reply. Emily quickly fell into step behind us, not saying a word, her eyes continuously burning holes into my back. As we moved along the narrow hallways of Callista's ship, I found my mind was grappling for ways to prevent her from finding out — and for a way to act around Emily without looking like a complete fool. I dreaded any sort of mention of what had happened, not ready to deal with what inevitably end in misery. My bare feet patted along the floorboards, the touch of wood calming me somewhat. But too soon we reached the small cabin where I was pushed into one of the available chairs. Emily quickly made herself comfortable next to me, her legs inches from mine — as if her presence alone wasn't torturous enough.

"Did you already get him up to speed?" Callista inquired as she placed herself opposite from us, one of her hands retrieving a small notebook that was cluttered with small writings and other incoherent ramblings.

"Uhm…" Emily started, caught slightly off-guard, clearing her throat before continuing. "No, I did not."

Callista sent her a strange look, raising one of her sharp eyebrows at the girl next to me.

"I mean — there was so much else… to talk about," She hastily added and I fought the urge to groan as she made everything a thousand times worse with her meaningless mumbles.

Callista hummed dismissively as she scanned through her unreadable notes, one of her fingers ticking against the small book, causing my pulse to jump at every tap. "If you could get the Outsider something to eat?" She requested as her eyes continued to flick across the page.

Emily quickly nodded, immediately handing me some tinned food and cutlery from a nearby cabinet. I grimaced at the small can, not eager to be chewing up tasteless seafood again.

"So, here's the plan," Callista started dryly, licking her lips as she frowned down at a word not even she could decode. "Tyvia, for a long time, used to be a monarchy. Even though it is now ruled by the Presidium, the princes of Tyvia are still universally adored, which is why it's highly unlikely for the people of Samara to recognise a foreign Empress by face alone. We reckon a different hairstyle and a new name should be enough of a cover for Emily, especially since she's never visited Tyvia in the first place." Callista sent me a look for confirmation, her eyes staring at me almost expectantly.

I hesitated, knowing full-well the people of Tyvia despised foreigners and wouldn't pay too much attention to other countries' leaders… I glanced at Emily, only to find her gazing straight at me, her lips slightly parted and- I immediately turned away again, instead focusing on Callista in hopes of calming my racing heart. "Yes… that should work," I mumbled stiffly, trying my best to sound casual as I fumbled with the can nervously.

My own lips still tingled from the memory of our kiss, laced by the lingering taste of something sweet. It wasn't as if it had come out of nowhere — I'd have to be blind to not see the signs. There'd been multiple occasions where it had almost happened, the pull I had felt even then had been unmistakable. My mind replayed everything that had led to my disastrous slip-up, my ruinous moment of poor impulse control. The fact that she hadn't pushed me away immediately only made it all worse — to think that maybe she didn't mind... This was all wrong. And the news that I most likely wouldn't be dying a premature death only served to make everything more complicated.

"Good..." Callista didn't continue straight away, her wary gaze drawn to my hands instead, noticing my unusual clumsiness.

I nearly jumped when Emily gently took the can away from me. "Allow me," she spoke softly, opening it up with ease before offering it back. I hesitantly accepted, mumbling a quick 'thanks' without looking her in the eye, ducking my head to escape the stares, aware I'd just been caught absorbed in my own thoughts.

"At any rate," Callista cut in again, her attention back to her notes, "Emily thought of an alias: Violet Taylor. She's to be called this at all times." The last words were emphasised by a raised eyebrow and a quick glance in my direction.

I nodded in understanding, thoughtlessly stirring my food with a fork. This had to end — this strange thing we had. It was all spiralling out of control. If what Callista had said was true and I really loved Emily...

"I'll be Nora Edwards, and you," she rubbed her temple as she shifted her attention from her notes to me, "you'll just be Matvey. Did you have a last name?"

I shook my head as I dared another bite of the preserved fish, disgusted at the taste — or perhaps it had been the thought of pushing Emily away that had tasted so bitter. But then again, maybe she had already changed her mind herself... She had apologised for giving me the wrong impression after all. What if she hadn't meant to kiss me back? What if she was sorry for having me believe she did?

"Then you'll be my son, Matvey Edwards. Sadly my Tyvian husband passed many years ago, but we'll be visiting his home country to witness the Tyvian lights and experience the culture." Callista sat back in her chair, regarding the both of us with an expectant look.

I quickly reminded myself to nod again, earning a satisfied look from Callista as she continued telling me 'Violet's' background. "Violet is a friend of the family, having grown up alongside you. Her father, Corvo, had some unfinished business at home, deciding to allow her to travel with us instead so she could enjoy the city early."

Her voice quickly faded from my mind as I eagerly convinced myself that Emily obviously regretted everything; she hadn't wanted to share a bed with me, she'd only done so because she'd been about to die and after that because she'd been lonely. She'd used me; I'd been the next best thing in the absence of proper company — that had to be it. I'd been a fool for falling in love, but at any rate that just meant I had no other choice but to let her go. I glanced up at Callista who was still talking, her fingers rubbing circles against her temple as she continued on.

"Emily was smart enough to bring some of her funds from the Safe Room, which means we'll be able to stay at a local inn. We also have clothes suited for the climate, you'll find them in your room. I've already packed a bag for you. The objective is to discover what the Abbey is working on, how your return to humanity has affected the Whale Oil, and to wait for Corvo to find us."

I took a final bite, turning my nose at the empty tin. I couldn't believe people could enjoy canned foods: they all tasted like slimy salt.

"We'll discuss a more detailed plan of action once we've settled at an inn, I'm sure this is enough information to process for now." Callista finished, turning to store her notes away again before wearily rubbing her eyes. "Check your bag to see if we've packed whatever you need, I expect we arrive in 30 minutes. Any questions?"

Only 30 minutes… were we really that close already? I knew whales were fast swimmers, but had they really been able to speed up our travels that much? And more importantly, why did _they_ want us to be here? I remembered the light I'd seen underwater, recalling how it had called to me, like they had done. I was almost certain they had tried to take me there, why had they now taken me here instead? Unless the two were somehow connected, but the chances of any light reaching Dunwall all the way from Samara were exactly zero.

Seeing as no one spoke up, Callista stood, pausing to turn to us a final time; "I'll be at the wheel if you need me." Her gaze darted between me and Emily, her perceptive stare a little too intrusive.

I quickly nodded in understanding, glad to be free of her all-knowing looks, but also dreading to be alone with Emily again. Maybe if I got up to follow right after Callista I could avoid having to look at her, or more importantly: speaking to her. The longer I could put off having to confront her, the better. Perhaps in a few days this would all blow over and she'd forget it'd ever happened and-

"Hey," tentative fingers touched my sleeve in an attempt to draw my attention, effectively raising my blood pressure to the point where my skull pounded with every heartbeat. "Could we talk?"

No. l really didn't want to. My hands turned clammy in an instant, my lungs' ability to function suddenly gone, leaving me dizzy and out of breath. "I'd rather not," I confessed, refusing to look at her, mournfully staring at the door Callista had just exited through instead.

"Listen, I know this must all be very confusing for you, and-"

"Please, just forget about it." I stood, quickly pulling away from her, trying to insert more distance between us — trying to fight that sickening twist of my stomach.

"Matvey, I-"

"Stop!" I took another step towards the door, scowling down at the worn floorboards, yearning so badly to leave, knowing she'd intervene if I tried, fully aware she wouldn't leave me alone until I gave in.

"No!" She countered, flying from her chair and towards me, circling around my frame and stopping between me and the door. I didn't even need to look up to read her expression, her glare bright enough to scald my skin, its burn further twisting up my insides. " _You_ kissed _me_!" She poked an accusatory finger against my chest at every word. "You don't get to do that and then just run away!"

"I said I was sorry!" I growled, feeling that first familiar flicker of rage as anger flushed my skin red. But I wasn't really angry, was I? There was just so much hurt that clung to her presence. I could hardly bear to look at her anymore, the sight of her causing a painful ache in my chest and leaving me out of breath and weak.

"Why?" She spat, the question surprising me enough to make me want to look at her, my heart immediately plummeting as soon as I did. Her features were contorted with a look of pure indignation, her amber eyes flaring up violently. "You're okay with feeling me up every night but a stupid kiss is too much?"

"I-"

"You don't get to decide what does or does not pass for the both of us!" She interrupted me, heatedly gesturing between us, her hair dancing and bouncing with every exaggerated movement — reminding me of how good it had felt tangled up between my fingers...

"What are you even-"

"What if I wanted you to kiss me?" She continued yelling, her scowl deepening and her hands balling into fists.

Lies, all lies. I was momentarily stunned into silence, my heart beating in my throat and my stomach churning dangerously. I was starting to feel sick, my head spinning and my body shivering. "Well — you shouldn't!" I rebutted, but even I knew it was a meaningless argument to be made.

"Why not!" She took a step towards me, forcing me to move back. "All you do is make up excuses!" She pointed another finger at me as her other arm continued to gesture furiously, her cheeks reddening as she became increasingly frustrated. "You push me away every damn chance you get, but draw me back in right when it suits you!"

She had to be lying, I was certain she was. People were all the same, I had to remember that. "I do not!"

"First you blame it on my supposed curiosity, then it's because you think you're not human, then it's that you can't give me the bullshit you tell me I need — well guess what, I know you're not dying!"

"W-" I cut myself off, the temperature of the room dropping down to a cruel chill.

"That's right! I overheard you and Anton!" She sneered, narrowing her eyes at me. "So what's the problem this time?" Another step and I bumped into the table behind me.

She was chipping away all of my defences, robbing me of my ammunition. "Please, I really don't want to hurt you," I warned, trapped between her and Callista's cursed furniture.

"Well you are hurting me! Your empty promises hurt me! Your never-ending mood swings hurt me! Your inability to face up to your own actions hurts me!" She was ranting, her affronted tone transforming into something shrill and uncontrolled. "You always choosing to run away from every potential confrontation hurts me!"

Her words tore at the vulnerable tempest inside of me, laying bare every bitter flare of hurt she'd ignited. It was my turn to take a step forward, our noses inches from touching as I glared down at her, ready to aim my final shot. "Okay. Let me make it clear then: I. Don't. Want. You." I seethed, narrowing my eyes right back at her.

She just scowled at me in muted silence, her eyes the most vibrant colour I had ever witnessed, before she finally cocked her head nonchalantly. "Fine," she hissed, raising her chin at me, her amber stare burning into mine. "We'll see about that, Your Highness." There was a challenge hidden in her tone as she bent down in a mocking curtsy, her glowering gaze never leaving mine and her lips pulled into the mockery of a smile.

I remained silent, reeling from the argument, my pulse a deafening drum. I didn't move to stop her as she turned away from me, leaving me behind in the now eerily silent cabin, the echoes of our shouts still buzzing through my tender sinew. I had finally done it, hadn't I? I had finally stepped up and ended this strange dance of reprehensible desire — this sure-fire road towards condemnation. I had let her go — no, forced her away — because I loved her.

But then… why did I feel so disconsolately empty?

* * *

I stormed into my room, slamming the door in petty anger, cursing the damn bed for all it had come to represent. My eyes found the stack of drawings and my hands immediately reached for them, not thinking twice about tearing up every single cursed image, my eyes watching my mother's face as I ripped her apart piece by piece. I scattered the fragments, threw away those useless memories, kicked at their existence.

Why?

My gaze locked onto the book Emily had been reading, deciding to pick that up as well and toss it at the wall, its pages sent flying around the room. Nothing relieved me of the suffocating weight that pushed down on me, the rage and frustration I felt too unmanageable to be contained within my useless skin. All of my senses were fried from the emotional overload she had caused me.

Why?

I dropped down into the mess I'd created, my knees grinding against the rough floor-boards, the sharp wood cutting into my skin. The physical pain was almost euphoric, the only distraction the world offered me from my ridiculous psyche. My gaze traced every snippet of paper, following them until it landed on something I hadn't expected to see again; my old boots. She must have found them, too. I longed to be angry so desperately, to hate her and to cast her aside as easily as I had everyone else. But…

Why me?

* * *

"My father never could stop himself from talking about Tyvia. He'd always insisted I go and taste its rich pears and wines for myself — not the imported garbage we dared call 'Tyvian'." Callista walked in front of us, a large bag slung across her shoulder, her warm boots plowing through the heavy layers of snow. "Its darkness however… that was something he never seemed too eager to talk about — do you remember what I taught you about Tyvian darkness, Violet?"

Emily walked behind me, her gaze burning holes into my back. "It lasts 5 months," she offered, her detached voice betraying her disinterest in the topic.

"6," I corrected on impulse, earning myself a look of surprise from Callista, causing me to shift the bag I carried self-consciously.

Samara was wrapped in darkness, its streets lighted only by strategically placed lanterns, small flames flickering in their glass containers. I had quickly discovered it'd been early in the morning when we arrived, the townsfolk still in the process of waking up. As the Outsider, I had never paid close attention to this town in particular. Wrapped in darkness for half of the year, it made for a hardly interesting watch. But now that I walked the cobblestone streets, each and every building designed with exceptional care and decorated in an ornately fashion, I couldn't help but be impressed. The people all looked the same; dark hair, pale skin and thick coats, most heads covered in fur-lined hats. Passing through the morning-crowd, I realised I recognised none of them. For the first time, not a single memory of a life lived popped into my mind at the sight of a person. They were just that: a person — someone I had never met and didn't know a thing about. It was refreshing, to be blind like this. For once I felt truly alone in my own mind.

"According to the signs there should be an inn around here…" Callista squinted, the darkness making it exceptionally hard to spot what we were looking for.

I honestly didn't know this time, allowing myself to slowly drift away from our little group, my eyes eagerly drinking up every detail of our foreign surroundings. The city smelled of smoke and freshly baked bread, its scent wafting around every snow-covered corner. The candlelight illuminated the rows of icicles that clung to the high roofs, causing them to glow like pointed crystals. The houses were all constructed of wood, unlike Dunwall. The eaves and window-frames carefully decorated by openwork tracery, every single building entirely unique.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" A man stepped up, having noticed Callista's searching looks. He was covered from head to toe, a scarf and hat concealing everything but his oddly bright, blue eyes.

Callista's first instinct was to glance around her, quickly checking to see if both me and Emily were still around. Tucking some stray hairs behind her ear, she turned towards the stranger. "Yes, please, if you could." She was as gracious as ever, accepting the offer with practiced politeness. "We're looking for the nearest inn, if you could help us find our way?"

Emily joined the two, observing the stranger curiously, her casual hairstyle and simple jacket making her appear like a completely different person. I watched them from the corner of my eye, feigning disinterest as I softly kicked the snow around, covering my boot in white powder.

"Yes, of course! Why don't I take you there? It's just around the corner," the man offered with a shrug, his eyes crinkling with what was mostly likely a smile.

"Thank you," Callista bowed her head at the man in gratitude, before turning to me with a slight frown, eyes drawn to my snow-covered boots. "Are you coming?" She asked, her tone pressing enough to let me in on her annoyance at my distance, urging me to stay closer.

I let out a huff of breath, smoky tendrils passing my cheeks as I caught up to them, mindfully avoiding walking too close to Emily. However it seemed she paid no more attention to me, instead fully focused on our helpful guide. I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed at his cheery attitude.

"I'm Artur, by the way." He turned his head, his eyes darting between the three of us.

"My name is Nora, and these are my son Matvey and our friend Violet." Callista introduced each of us.

"Nice to meet you," Artur offered us all a handshake, which I blankly refused, causing him to pause awkwardly before quickly turning back to Callista. "So what brings you here?"

"My late-husband… he was Tyvian," Callista breathed, staring off into the distance as we walked. We passed by several buildings, their small panelled windows reflecting our little group, my gaze drawn to my own unsettling image. "I've been wanting to show my son the lights of Samara, my husband had always recalled them with such fondness."

"I'm sorry for your loss…" Artur consoled her, her convincing act effectively calling upon his obviously naive sense of sympathy. "You still appear very young, it's good to see you're not bound by your grief," he complimented, earning a quick 'thank you' from Callista. "And the two of you…?" His eyes darted suggestively between Emily and I.

"No-" I quickly denied the assumption, only to be interrupted by Emily.

"Don't mind him, he's a bit shy around strangers," she giggled, turning to me, the hint of a smirk twisting her lips. "Aren't you, honey?" one of her arms looped around mine, a hand resting atop my elbow, her hip digging into my side.

Blood rushed towards my face, the tips of my ears burning as I shot her a spiteful glare, daring her to say another word.

"It's alright," Artur laughed, sending another eye-crinkle at the both of us, "I'd be shy too if a beauty such as yourself were on my arm."

Emily visibly flushed at the words, a demure smile curling her lips, her eyes darting to the ground. I scowled at the two of them, catching the disapproving look Callista shot Emily at her disobedience. We rounded the corner, revealing another row of wooden homes and other buildings. A few windows were lit by candle-light, revealing the interior of some. We passed several more before Artur stopped, turning towards us.

"Well, here it is." He gestured at another lavishly decorated building, detailed woodwork covering every inch. "A bit old-fashioned, but cosy — I promise." He playfully raised his hands in defence.

"Thank you kindly for your help," Callista smiled at him. "If there's any way we can repay you…"

He waved a hand at her as he let out an amused laugh. "No, that won't be necessary, it's been my pleasure."

"It's been nice meeting you," Emily added quickly, smiling at the man she had known for how long now? Five minutes?

He dared a glance at me, quickly averting his eyes again when confronted with my unamused stare. I was more than happy to see him go, but when he was about to walk away he appeared to change his mind, instantly turning back to Callista. "Oh, now that I think of it," he started, his gloved hand darting into one of his pockets, rummaging through his puffy coat until he pulled out a stack of pamphlets. "I'm in the organisation of Samara's Winter festival, I'd love it if the three of you were willing to join the local festivities." He handed each of us a piece of paper filled with elaborately illustrated words and pictures, accompanied by another eye-crinkling smile. "It's definitely not the same now that we no longer have our electricity, but here in Tyvia we're used to worse."

"Thank you, we'll definitely think about it," Callista smiled politely, carefully storing away the pamphlet.

"Great!" He rocked on his heels, gaze darting between the three of us. "Well, see you around, then!" He waved a final time, retreating at last, his gaze drawn to us a few more times as he walked away. I watched him go, his coat and hat making him blend in with the small crowd of people, until he soon became indistinguishable from the rest.

"People are so nice here," Emily noted as her gaze remained fixed on the direction Artur had gone, her arms still looped in mine.

I took the opportunity to retrieve my limb, hastily pulling away from her as soon as the coast was clear. "They won't be so nice once they find out who you are," I grumbled, annoyed as I dramatically dusted off my sleeve.

Callista stepped in, resting a hand on Emily's shoulder, an urgent look on her face as she leaned closer. "No more improvising, Lady Emily, it's dangerous to stray away from the plan," she whispered, eyes darting between me and her former pupil.

"Lighten up, _Nora_." Emily side passed the concerned woman, headed for the door of the inn, throwing a mischievous smirk over her shoulder. "If anything, I did us a favour, what with all the blatantly jealous stares going around." Her pointed gaze found me as she pushed the door open, quickly ducking inside.

"Hey! I-" The door closed on us before I could finish, leaving me in a slightly disgruntled mood. I glared at the door, balling my fists and-

"I don't know what the Void is going on between the two of you, but you better get your act together if you plan on surviving here," Callista scolded me, her hands firmly planted on her hips, lips pulled into a disapproving frown.

I turned to scowl at my feet, feeling the blood rush to my face again, anger raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I had hoped pushing her away would make her want nothing to do with me, but instead it had only served to make her more persistent.

Stubborn, like she'd always been.

"Well, come on." Callista moved to hold open the door for me, gesturing for me to enter first. I quickly forced the thoughts from my mind, urging myself to keep my cool — even if Emily tried her best to make me lose it. Her eyes followed me as I passed her, but she was nice enough not to comment any further, which shouldn't come as a surprise to me; Callista had always been exceptionally good at minding her own business.

The warmth of the inn hit me as soon as I stepped inside, washing away the cold that had soaked into my skin, soon making me want to take off my coat to relieve myself of the sudden heat. The interior was old-fashioned, like Artur had mentioned, carved out of rich mahogany and decorated with both pelts and detailed plaids. Ornaments were scattered all around the space, from wooden objects decorated with paint to framed illustrations and intricate clocks. A large fireplace heated the room, its crackling flames casting a warm light across rich multi coloured carpets. There were several chairs and a single couch set up around it, a basket full of newspapers and other books nearby. There was a large staircase right ahead, its steps covered with a worn-down rug.

I spotted Emily at a wooden desk that stood at the back of the room, her bag at her feet. "There you are!" She called, "I was just telling this wonderful lady all about you!"

I directed my gaze past her, spotting an old woman that looked well in her sixties, her shoulders wrapped in an elaborate shawl and her eyes framed by a pair of half moon glasses.

"My, he's quite the catch, isn't he?" The old lady smiled at me, the wrinkled skin surrounding her eyes creasing even further at the expression.

I walked up to the both of them, followed by a silent Callista. I eyed the two smiling women suspiciously, already distrustful of the amused look on Emily's face.

"I was telling her about the first time we met," she grinned, casually leaning an elbow on the desk. "Do you still remember? I was 10, you were 15." She fluttered her lashes at me, raising her eyebrows in question.

I stopped next to her, leaning against the desk as well, attempting to assess her intentions as my apprehensive gaze roamed her schooled features. "I do," I admitted. "You walked into my home without invitation and wouldn't stop crying." The smugness had started to fade from her smile, her chin slowly inching higher in challenge, but I continued before she could speak. "Did you book any rooms yet?" I glanced at the old lady who's welcoming grin had been replaced by a look of mild confusion.

"I did," Emily smiled sweetly, "the honeymoon suite."

No way she had — she couldn't possibly be serious. "Really now?" I cocked my head, clenching my jaw. "Last I checked we weren't married yet, sweetie," I spoke through gritted teeth, the words dripping with poison, eliciting an amused smirk from the girl next to me. Two could play that game, if she thought I'd let her win that easily she'd be sorely mistaken. I directed a charming grin towards the elderly woman, hoping she was as old-fashioned as she appeared, leaning in to make sure her old ears would hear. "Don't worry," I assured her, my voice dark and husky — a surprisingly easy feat for me, "we haven't fucked before the sacred matrimony if that's what you're worrying about." The woman's eyes widened, her face visibly blanching. "We live by the strictures." I raised my hand, showing her my crossed fingers before turning back to a stunned Emily, the former Empress narrowing her eyes at me as I spoke the last part to her; "May the Abbey bless our souls."

"Oh," the old woman exclaimed, her mouth slightly agape, "well..." she paused, rubbing her cheek with one hand before shaking her head, the colour slowly returning to her features. "Who am I to judge the lives of ones so young?" She laughed, reaching for Emily's hand and placing a set of keys in her palm. "Here you go, dear," she smiled warmly, wrapping her fingers around the limb before winking at her. "He's a feisty one, that fiancé of yours."

I sourly watched as the smugness was quick to take over Emily's features again, that infuriating grin back in its place. "Why thank you, Nadia." She squeezed the woman's hand. "I know he's still a little rough around the edges, but it's nothing a good woman cannot fix."

"Oh, I'm sure about that!" Nadia giggled, her cheery eyes almost disappearing between folds of wrinkled skin.

Callista stepped in between us, bringing an end to the theatrics, her face as serious as always. "I'd also like a room. Single, please," she requested, not turning to look at either of us.

"Ah, yes, of course!" Nadia quickly reached for another key, handing it over to the stern woman. "What name may I write down?" She asked, that same welcoming smile she'd first offered me back in place.

"Nora Edwards."

"Oh, family, I see — sister?"

Callista raised an eyebrow, accepting the key from the elder. "Mother," she corrected, adjusting her bag before turning towards the nearby staircase. "I assume the rooms are up here?"

"Yes!" Nadia quickly nodded, adding: "Numbers are on the keys."

Callista continued up the stairs after a quick 'thank you', leaving us behind without a further word.

Emily's gaze darted between the older woman and Callista before quickly excusing herself, lifting her bag off the floor and hurrying after her former teacher. I didn't spare the elder another glance, following behind the others without a word, trying to think of ways to get the upper-hand in our current situation.

"Nora?" Emily called after Callista as she climbed the stairs, her bag slinging from one side to the other.

Callista slowed, throwing her old student a short glance. "Whatever the two of you are doing, I want nothing to do with it," she clarified, obviously annoyed at what had just happened. "I will be seeing the both of you in my room in an hour. Number 201." She didn't wait for Emily or I to respond, continuing her way up shortly after.

Emily stilled, eyes trailing after her former teacher. I stopped beside her, shooting her a curious glance, noticing she showed barely any reaction to Callista's words. Instead she parted her lips, clicking her tongue before commenting. "Your mother seems upset."

I frowned, somewhat taken aback by her careless attitude, starting to wonder if perhaps her stay in prison had affected her more than she liked to let on.

"Well, let's go," she turned, wrapping her hand around mine and intertwining our fingers, "I can't wait to see our room."

She dragged me up the stairs before I could comment, the way she held onto my hand making me highly uncomfortable — was that her thumb stroking my skin? As soon as we rounded the corner, the both of us out of sight, I quickly pulled free, distancing myself from her once more. I wanted to tell her to stop, to quit this nonsense of hers. If people found out about our act, especially in Tyvia, we'd be in the sort of trouble not even I could get us out of. She read the numbers on the door, silently mouthing along as she searched for ours, her other hand holding up the key she'd been given. I knew I'd have to wait, there was no way I was going to draw unnecessary attention to the both of us. A couple passed us, their arms linked and their shoulders connected. They greeted us, earning themselves a happy smile from the former Empress. I narrowed my eyes at her, unable to figure out why she was behaving like this.

"Here it is!" She exclaimed, shooting me a self-satisfied smile that further fuelled my chagrin. She quickly inserted the key into the lock, turning it until it clicked, her other hand softly pushing against the wood. It creaked in its hinges, slowly swinging open and revealing a cosy room full of decorative pleads and wooden trinkets. Emily stepped inside, her eyes wide with wonder, the hints of a genuine smile on her lips. "This looks like a fairytale..." she breathed, circling around to get a view of every little detail; from hand-carved wood to intricately sewn curtains and carpets. There was a bed directly next to the door, flanked by two wooden cabinets topped with a set of candles. Tyvia had adjusted better to the lack of electricity than Dunwall had, but in a way that made sense for a country that had dealt with long periods of darkness for centuries.

"If a fairytale means not updating your furniture for a 100 years, then yes, it does," I deadpanned, slowly following her inside.

She ignored me as she dumped her bag and coat onto the bed, soon dropping down next to it, the thick spreads that covered it dipping beneath her weight. I looked away from her, quickly banishing any thoughts of her or the bed before they could take shape. Instead I was drawn to a small painting at the opposite side of the room, my feet carrying me there without further thought. It was a purple flower, small and fragile, its green stem sprouting from a thick layer of snow. I stared at it, feeling a shift in time as the world around me had started to bend, its colours blending and warping together. There was a ring in my ears, both my toes and fingers consumed by a terrible burn — the sting of cold, the bite of death.

"It says here the festival lasts an entire month!" I was dragged back into reality by the sound of Emily's voice, the cold sweat that had covered my skin causing me to shiver. "I can't believe how free everything is here..."

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands, trying to banish the sudden wave of dizziness. "That's what they want you to think," I remarked dryly, feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. "You haven't seen the prison camps yet." There was a small couch on the left side of the room, covered in more knitted spreads and cushions. I turned towards it, slipping my bag from my shoulders and placing it on one of the corners along with my coat, dropping myself down next to it.

"You're not going to sleep on the couch, are you?"

I allowed my head to lean back against the wall behind me, closing my eyes as I fought the urge to want to get away from her, aware I had nowhere to go right now. "Was it wrong of me to assume you claimed the bed?"

The bed creaked as she moved, the thick sheets rustling with every motion. "So? Sharing wasn't a problem before." She was moving closer.

"That was befo-"

"Before what?" She stood directly in front of me now, her tone dripping with annoyance. "Before you kissed me?"

I opened my eyes, frowning at her as she stood with her arms crossed, her angry gaze sharp and demanding. The same nerves that had plagued me in the cabin of Callista's ship returned full-force, making me want to disappear, anything to get away from those eyes.

"Tell me, Matvey," she continued heatedly, her skin starting to flush, "what was it about that kiss that scares you so much?"

My frown deepened into a scowl, my fingers wrapping around the ritual rings on my other hand, their cold touch soothing me. "I'm not."

"Not what? Scared?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. "Then do it again," she challenged, cocking her head.

"I'm not a courtesan."

"Neither am I, yet I get pushed to the side like one."

"Stop," I hissed angrily, straightening my back, slightly raising myself towards her.

"Kiss me." She lowered herself, putting her hands on my legs, her fingers digging into the fabric of my pants, trapping me in place.

"I'm not here to play your silly little games!" I growled, feeling my heartbeat pick up at her touch, that familiar heat spreading through my limbs again as my gaze briefly darted to her lips.

"Neither was I, yet there you were," she raised her eyebrows, her eyes flitting across my face, lingering on my mouth before meeting my gaze again. "And I'm not stopping until you admit it."

"Admit what?" I felt my breath hitch, knowing exactly what she meant but honestly not wanting to discuss any of this in the first place.

She leaned in, stopping only inches from my face, her lips hovering above mine — igniting that desperate craving inside of me that wished for her to close the distance, an uncontrolled heat burning just beneath my skin. "That you do want me," she whispered seductively, her warm breath caressing my skin, her eyes growing darker. I felt my control start to slip, my mind growing hazier, hungrier, my senses overpowered by the ache she reawakened. I allowed my eyes to travel to her lips again, following their gentle curve, longing to-

I forced her to move away as I abruptly rose to my feet, distancing myself from her, fighting to regain my rationality. I shook my head, my hands pulling at my hair, trying to expel the memory of her taste. "Emily, you've lost your throne, your empire is in financial and industrial decay, and the Abbey is probably going to destroy whatever balance between this world and the Void remains…" I pleaded, knowing it was more to myself than her.

"I'm just hearing more excuses." She remained unwavering, her hands on her hips as her eyes never left me, her stare going straight through me and leaving me feeling more naked than ever.

I opened and closed my mouth several times, wanting to say something, grappling for words as my gaze darted across the room, my arms wrapping around myself. She didn't try to interrupt as I wracked my brain for something, anything, a strange numbness spreading through me as I reached for the most compelling thing I could remember. "Aren't you the one who said whatever you felt was wasted in a dying world?" I accused, the words sharp and meant to sting.

Surprise took over her features as she heard the words she had spoken to me, and I realised everything felt so different now — I felt so different. She shook her head, a pitiful smile pulling at her lips as she shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong?" She took a step towards me, her pleading gaze fighting to reason with me. "Maybe the true waste is to not allow yourself to feel at all…"

My reality shifted at her words, everything I had told myself to believe in, everything I had known, deconstructed by a single sentence. I drew a shuddery breath, feeling my feet move as they started to carry me away from her, back towards the door. The water had started rising again, filling my lungs and flushing away my breath, making me drown in my own thoughts. I turned, and she didn't attempt to stop me as I twisted the knob, knowing there'd be no coming back to this moment if I left. I paused in the doorway, fighting to breathe deeply as I tried to make sense of my feelings — all too soon realising feelings rarely made sense at all.

"You're a coward, do you know that?" I heard her ask, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

I didn't move, my hand still holding the door. My eyes traced the veins and arteries that pulsed beneath my skin, my blood the same colour as hers, as Callista's, as Corvo's. I lifted my head, looking back at her, watching her as she stood at the center of the room, her shoulders straight and her chin raised stubbornly, still.

 _That's what happens in your presence after all, isn't it?_

"To be afraid…" I started, my gaze drifting towards the painting behind her, tracing the delicate flower amongst a sea of white, "is to be human." I took another step, out into the hallway, away from her, closing the door behind me as I let out a fragile breath, closing my eyes as I shut her out… again.


	15. Drink

"First of all," Callista leaned against one of the window-frames in her room, her notebook in one hand and a pen in the other, "why did you want us to come all the way to Samara, exactly?"

I sat in a large chair opposite of her, my arms hanging down the armrests as I stared at the ceiling, intrigued that people had gone through the effort of painting it, its surface littered with small floral decorations. "Like I said, it's where the Eyeless were active before they grew into the cult they are today."

Emily had taken the bed to my right, her legs crossed and her hands neatly folded in her lap — the perfect image of piety. "We're going to need more information than that," she spoke, and I sensed the underlying tension in her voice, our argument unforgotten.

I was sure Callista must have noticed as well, but she had decided to stay out of it, probably reckoning it was none of her business — which I was actually thankful for. I pursed my lips, thinking of how to best elaborate, my eyes still tracing every single painted flower above. "They started as a religion, like the Abbey, in a sense," I was certain Emily had to recognise the gist of what I was telling, I'd already let bits and pieces slip before. "They came promising wealth, good crops and better health." I righted myself, turning to meet Callista's gaze. "There were no machines back then, no proper medicine. People died of a simple flu. Bad crops meant many would starve. Life wasn't the luxury most know it to be." My eyes darted to the window, drawn to the darkness outside. "They built a church here. That's what we're here for; that church."

Callista wrote down everything I said, her gaze shooting up at my final words, a frown pulling her eyebrows together. "A church? Are you even sure it still exists? This was how many years ago?"

I glanced at her again, crossing my arms. "No," I admitted, "for as far as I know it could be gone."

"Excuse me?" Emily snapped, "you're telling us you made us come all this way for something that might not even exist?"

I cocked my head her way, a slight pang shooting through my chest as soon as I laid eyes on her, "yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

Emily was about to say more, a look of disbelief plastered on her face, when Callista quickly intervened, attempting to keep the situation from escalating, "let us hope it still does, then."

But Emily wasn't about to let it slide that easily, rising from the bed and coming to a stand between us. "So? We're just going to look for some mystery church now? Not even sure of its existence?" She crossed her arms, her gaze darting between me and Callista impatiently.

"Yes," I drove home the point, "I believe that's exactly what we'll be doing."

"Great," she dropped herself down on the bed again, directing a scowl towards the window. Her frustration was evident, and I knew it had absolutely nothing to do with the church.

"Let's first get familiar with the town," Callista suggested. "We can memorise roads and possible escape routes in case we'll ever need them." She shrugged, "if we're lucky we might even find the church while we're at it."

"Does this mean we'll visit the festival?" Emily was still staring out the window, her arms and legs crossed.

I caught Callista glancing at me, an unreadable look in her eyes. "I don't think I could stop you if I tried," she conceded.

I sat a little straighter, a feeling of discomfort rising up my spine. "You're not planning on going alone, are you?"

"Why?" Emily immediately rounded in on me, raising her eyebrows in question. "Afraid some handsome Tyvian stranger might come for my hand?"

I sent her a look of absolute disbelief. "No," I caught the scorching flicker of annoyance in her eyes, "safety reasons."

"Speak for yourself; with your social skills you need all the protection you can get," she taunted, cocking an eyebrow, lips twisted into a daring smirk.

"I think it's best if we stick together. Always go out in pairs." Callista swiftly ended the discussion, obviously not in the mood for both of our antics.

I watched as the former Empress's face fell at the spoiled opportunity, quickly collecting herself with a flippant shrug. "Well I think I'd like to take a stroll right now." She stood, gaze expectantly darting between Callista and I.

"I think I'll pass." Callista pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes closing wearily. "Five minutes with the two of you together is enough to give anyone a headache."

I felt a hand land on my shoulder, knowing it to be Emily's, my gaze avoiding her as I sourly stared ahead. "Guess it's you and me, huh?" She quipped, a little too happily.

—

"I can't imagine living in darkness for six whole months!" Emily complained as soon as we set foot outside, her eyes taking in the small street. "How can one stand not having the sun around to warm their skin?"

"You do know that's what fireplaces are for, right?" The snow crunched beneath our boots, the cold air wrapping around our breaths, turning them to thick tufts of smoke.

"Of course you wouldn't understand," she muttered, hands rubbing her arms for warmth. "You've lived in that god-awful pit of darkness for centuries."

The comment stung, something I mentally scolded myself for. "I thought you wanted to see the city?" I changed the subject, turning away from her.

"I do. I need something to wear to the festival."

I turned to face her again, my features twisted in disbelief, "you want to go shopping? Now? With everything going on?"

She latched herself onto my arm, her previous anger with me apparently forgotten as she pushed herself up against me. "I don't see why not. If the world ends it wouldn't matter either way."

I had half a mind to stop myself from leaning into her, my brow furrowed still as I continued to stare at her instead. "You're spending your funds on party-wear?" What was she doing?

She shrugged, "after everything that happened I figure it's the least I deserve." Clicking her tongue, she turned around to face me fully, the hints of a smile curving her lips. "We can get you something as well."

"No," I scowled, turning away from her beaming gaze. What was her angle? Why was she pretending our earlier argument hadn't happened?

"Come on now, have a little fun for once." She pulled my arm, further pushing her chest against it, the outline of her-

"I'm not going to participate in your frivolous game of dress-up." I noticed the clipped way in which I spoke, the hint of hoarseness at the back of my throat. Soon my skin would turn to steam too, I was certain.

She halted, shaking her head. "It's not. Parties, fine clothes, good food, music, arts... they're an expression of the human soul." She smiled dreamily, pulling me along as she resumed her walk, "they transcend mortality."

I stared at her, distracted by her fingers which had thoughtlessly stroked my arm. My voice had abandoned me, replaced by stupefied silence and trails of warm smoke.

"Here's a deal," she continued, a finger poking my chest teasingly, lingering above my thundering heart, "I'll drop the fiancé act for today, if you agree to pick out at least one article of clothing for yourself."

"Why not drop it entirely?" I croaked, squaring my shoulders as I tried to regain some composure.

She giggled, earnestly enough to both warm me from the inside out _and_ conjure a sense of mortifying dread. "That would hardly be any fun, now would it?" Her finger left my chest, her hand wrapping around my arm again instead. "So, what do you say?"

I couldn't think, couldn't swallow the lump in my throat. She was too close, too overbearing, too damn attractive for me to function properly. "Fine," I quickly conceded, hoping — praying to the Void — that she'd drive me less crazy. She squealed, hugging my arm even tighter, causing my skin to flush and my heart to start skipping beats. "I thought you said you would drop it?" I spoke through gritted teeth, trying to fight the heat that had flooded my features.

She paused, stare burning into my skin, a little too sharp and observant. Then she released me, taking a satisfied step away from me. "Fine," she sighed, feigning disappointment, her gaze instantly searching around for something else to focus on.

I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat, hiding part of my face into its collar. The parts of my body she had pressed herself against had immediately grown cold, a shiver sorrowfully reminding me of her absence. I almost regretted saying anything, almost.

"Did you spot the church yet?"

"No." I'd been looking, but so far I didn't recognise a single part of this city. Not a single building sported the tell-tale structure imprinted in my brain — so far we'd passed a bakery, different kinds of shops, several boutiques, a museum and a school. Chances of the church still existing were extremely small, but I honestly didn't know a better way to find the information I needed.

"There's a lot of flower shops here," Emily noted as we passed yet another one. "Strange for a country with hardly any sunlight."

"They represent hope and rebirth."

"Hm," she hummed, mostly to herself. "Is that why you enjoy drawing them?"

I kicked forth a small lump of snow, its weak structure immediately crumbling to powder. "You could say that."

I could see her nod from the edge of my vision, her gaze still on me, watching me. "Didn't you mention something about the dead of Samara and flowers?"

"I did." She'd been paying more attention than I'd expected. I'd be proud, almost, if she hadn't been driving me to madness. I knew it wasn't fair — I'd initiated the kiss, it'd been my doing that had broken the dam of our relationship, let loose the floodwaters for me to drown in.

"Must be interesting, to know so much of the world," she mused.

I snorted, "that's rich, coming from you."

"Hey! I was young, okay," she protested, sending me an offended frown before turning back to the snow-covered path ahead. "I wanted experiences, not stories."

"Don't we all," I mumbled beneath my breath, my gaze trailing wooden balconies and icy rooftop ridges.

"Oh, let's pick this one!" She gestured at a small boutique, its windows framing a diverse collection of wintery-looking fashion.

"I'd rather not," I admitted sourly, knowing full-well my words would fall on deaf ears.

Emily entered first, holding open the door for me to make sure I followed. I sent her an annoyed look as I passed, feeling trapped as soon as she closed it behind me. The interior of the store reminded me of the inn, if not slightly less old-fashioned. Still, many of the same decorative choices returned: from those carefully carved wooden accents, to the painted details that adorned the ceiling. It even seemed that same traditional style had been processed into their fashion, every item radiating the same essence of an age-old culture.

"Welcome," a cheery woman around Callista's age greeted us from behind her small counter, her hair wrapped in a messy bun and her eyes hidden behind a large pair of glasses. "May I help you?"

Emily made her approach, dragging me along as she went. "Yes," she answered eagerly, "we're planning on visiting the festival and we were wondering if you could offer us something suitable to wear."

"Oh, why yes, of course!" The woman exclaimed, seemingly excited to provide for such a special occasion. "An outfit for each?" She asked quickly as she moved towards a clothing rack to her left.

"Yes," Emily smiled politely, following the store owner. "If you could find something for my friend first?"

"Your friend," the lady spoke absentmindedly as she delved through layers of different clothing. "I think I might have something..." Her gaze darted to me several times, seizing me up with a focused look. "Do you have a preference in colour?" She asked, collecting several items and hanging them over one of her arms.

Emily sent me a pressing look, urging me to answer.

"Oh," I mumbled, a bit taken aback, my hands fumbling with the hem of my coat. "I think I..." what did I like? I had no idea, I'd never considered the thought. The lady paused, watching me expectantly to which I dared a quick glance at Emily. She observed me curiously, her amber eyes flickering with intrigue — I loved the colour of her eyes... but I could hardly go around telling that to people, especially not with her there; she'd never allow me to live it down. Instead I went with the first colour I could think of, the colour that had surrounded me for centuries; "I prefer... blue?" I shrugged.

"Good choice," the lady smiled, returning several items to the rack before walking up to us, carrying the remaining clothes. "Is this your first time visiting Samara?" She asked the both of us.

"It is." Emily was quick to respond, her gaze drawn to the intricately decorated fabric the woman was holding.

"The winter festival is part of Samara's tradition, as are these clothes — our ancestors wore similarly decorated fabrics and accessories," she explained, her dark eyes shining with pride. "You won't have to worry about the cold, there'll be plenty of warmth at the bonfire."

I eyed the different articles she held, my gaze tracing the delicate embroideries and detailed patterns. "How old are these traditions?" I found myself asking, eyes flitting back up to her face.

She appeared to be pleasantly surprised by my interest, eager to tell us more about her heritage. "It's said they go back an estimated 4000 years."

"So after the sacrifice?" I offered, my features schooled into a mask of cold indifference.

"Y-yes..." she hesitated, gaze flicking between the two of us warily. "I'm sorry — we don't speak of _him_ here..."

Emily shot me a questioning look before turning back to the woman. "Wait, who's _him_?"

The store owner shook her head. "Samara has always been safe..."

"Of course," I smiled, "we wouldn't want the _Outsider_ to come spoil your lovely festivities- oh," I feigned shock, "I apologise, I shouldn't have spoken of him." I sent the obviously surprised woman an apologetic smile as I took the carefully selected clothing from her. "Where do I try these?"

It took her a few seconds to process my question, too flabbergasted by my careless mention of the title. "O-over there," she pointed towards a small door at the back.

"Thank you." I sent her another polite smile, ignoring her shaken demeanour as I passed, headed for the appointed door. I could hear Emily apologise once more for my supposed 'slip-up' as I walked away, a feeble attempt to get on the lady's good side again. Entering the small changing room, I noticed a large mirror to my right where I was faced with my reflection, my own acidic gaze staring straight at me. I hated looking at myself — more and more I grew unfamiliar with the person I saw, the strange man without purpose. I looked lost in my own skin, and perhaps I was. I glanced down at the pile of clothes I held to my chest, the different shades of blue contrasting with the paleness of my hands. These clothes were part of Samara's tradition, one born from my death all those centuries ago. The irony of me wearing these culturally significant items wasn't lost on me — if anything it made me _want_ to.

I moved to undress as I carefully hung the pile of clothes onto a nearby stool, freeing my hands so that I could take off my thick coat. The outfits I'd been handed consisted only of long-sleeved shirts made from thick wool, their sleeves and high-collars adorned with diverse floral patterns. Each of them came with a sash, all equally decorated. The colours ranged from a light sky-blue to very a dark navy. I knew what Emily would expect me to pick; the darker choice seemed obvious. But if I wanted to remain one step ahead of her, I decided I should at least pick something unexpected. Going for the lightest of the bunch, I pulled the carefully designed fabric over my head, smoothly weaving my arms through the sleeves. I was surprised by how warm and soft it felt, as well as how snugly it fit my frame.

I swallowed, my throat feeling dry, and I blamed the stuffy air of the shop, the smells of fire and smoke wafting through the space. My gaze travelled towards my reflection, reluctantly trailing the edges of the shirt, focusing on everything but my face. I found myself liking the detailed embroidery, the love and care put into it evident through every single stitch. There was a passion hidden in the meticulously repeated patterns, a pride that let itself be known through the maker's obviously extraordinary craftsmanship. I twisted my ritual rings around, their touch cooling my skin. I decided I'd take it — not necessarily because I liked it, more-so because I liked the idea of _me_ wearing it. It was wrong, a perverse twist of how things should be, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

* * *

We were headed back to the inn, expecting Callista to have grown hungry by now. Emily had picked out an outfit for herself as I'd been in the changing room, strangely refusing to show me, the set carefully packed into a paper bag much like mine. We walked in silence, the dark streets of Samara starting to come alive as people took a break from their work. It was almost as if nothing had changed here, as if the Whale Oil hadn't lost its power and as if the economy wasn't suffering from it. Unlike Dunwall, life went on here without curfews or other strict measures. We blended in with the crowd without trouble, nobody batting an eye at the two of us — which was strange. I wasn't used to this anonymity, and I was certain Emily wasn't either. The last time she'd been able to walk the streets freely had been in Karnaca, but even then she'd been forced to mask her features.

Which reminded me of Corvo, and I briefly wondered if he'd find Emily's instructions in the Safe Room — if he'd survived Shindaerey, of course. I knew both him and Billie were more than capable of taking out the Abbey if they needed, but still, flashes of visions continued to nag at me. The things I'd seen during those few times my blood had been in direct contact with Sokolov's Whale Oil were far too confusing for me to really understand them, and even then most of what I'd seen had already come to pass. In a way that worried me, I didn't like the constant anxiety that now clung to me at the unpredictability of everything. I acted without any prior knowledge of possible consequences, and if anything my own mind had proven itself to be rather inept at reading the world around me.

I glanced at Emily, surprised to find her observing me. She didn't shy away from my gaze, her eyebrows lifting as she continued to stare. "What are you thinking about?" She asked, raising her head in interest.

I looked away, focusing on the people that passed us instead, trails of smoke following them. "You father," I admitted.

"What?" She huffed, playfully crossing her arms. "Don't tell me you kissed him, too."

I frowned. "Contrary to what you might believe, I don't make a habit out of it." I closed my eyes, forcing in a deep breath as I tried to calm the familiar rush of nerves at the topic.

Her arm bumped into mine as she inched closer to me, the contact forcing me to look at her and catch the playful glint in her eyes. "So, was it your first?"

I directed a pointed look at the arm that continued to touch me, "remember what you promised?"

"Alright," she sighed, taking an exaggerated step away from me.

The inn had already come into sight, its ornate front easy to spot. I felt relieved knowing we wouldn't be alone anymore, my skyrocketing blood pressure a sure sign of an early death — at least if Emily continued her assault. We were greeted by a happy Nadia as soon as we entered, the elderly woman a shining beacon amidst the frilly fabrics that clung to both walls and furniture. I didn't like it. All of it, I decided. I hadn't even managed to close the door behind us before the two women became engrossed in conversation, Nadia's cheerfulness quickly matched by Emily's radiant smile. I bit the inside of my cheek, my teeth grazing the skin hard enough to taste blood, its metallic flavour wholly mismatched in this world of wood and wool. My feet carried me forward, towards the stairs, my fingers clenching the bag of festive nonsense.

"Oh!" Emily unexpectedly exclaimed, stopping me inches from the first carpeted step. "I'll go fetch Nora," she offered, gaze sheepishly darting between me and the innkeeper.

"It's fine, I can do it," I bit out, sending our elderly company a suspicious glance.

"You shouldn't reject a lady's offer, young man," Nadia giggled, directing a mischievous wink at Emily and earning an amused grin from her.

I rolled my eyes, startled when Emily pulled the paper bag from my hand.

"I'll put this away for you — don't worry, I won't peek!" She promised, launching up the stairs in a way no Empress should.

I was left at the overcrowded lobby, surrounded by old-fashioned clutter — reminding myself _I_ was old-fashioned clutter.

"She's quite the catch, that fiancé of yours," Nadia smiled, her weathered gaze a little too pointed, a little too circumspect.

"She is," I narrowed my eyes at the woman, a strange feeling creeping up my back, my hand missing the crinkle of cheap paper to hold onto.

"Such a kind and honest heart, it's rare to see one of those these days," she continued, her words causing my skin to crawl. It sounded like an accusation, almost. Her eyes proceeded to stare at me — through me, it felt like.

"What are you implying?" I cut to the chase, raising my chin, straightening my back.

She shook hers, a melancholy settling over her like storm-clouds. "So anxious-"

"Don't pretend to know me," I interrupted, something I had honestly never been fond of doing.

"I know those rings. Sacrificial, are they not? Old tradition. Who was it? Your father, perhaps? A sibling?"

Me. It was me. _Me, me, me._

"Your soul, it carries an age beyond your years, thickens the air with its weight, smells of silt and ozone."

My heart throbbed painfully — the muscles in my neck tensing.

"I'm so sorry," she spoke soft as old dust, covering all of me.

"Don't pity me." Anger flushed my skin red, drew my knuckles white.

"I don't," she smiled, "I'm happy for you."

I didn't reply, my mind wiped clean of any coherency.

"You found her, didn't you? Violet. Treasure that." Her fingers stroked her scarf, stopped above her heart. "Love lights up even the darkest of times," she closed her eyes, her smile still in place. "My Peter, he was a lot like you. Rough around the edges. Real piece of work."

"I doubt it."

She chuckled, but the sound was hollow. "Maybe you're right. I'm just an old lady after all — senile, dementing..." She'd opened her eyes again, that same penetrating look in place. "Soon I'll be but a shadow in the Void."

Droplets of cold sweat ran down my back, the shard of black stone I had kept close ever since escaping the Abbey seared into my skin.

"My, aren't you quite the picture!" She suddenly exclaimed, her gaze directed at someone behind me.

I turned, relieved at the shift of attention, my fingers digging into the edges of my sleeves. Some of the tension slipped off of me at the sight on the stairs — Emily, looking exactly the same as she had before leaving. Why was it then that my face grew hot all the same? I promptly forced myself to look away, my eyes shooting to the carpet below, my fingers wrapping around the ritual rings in an attempt to act casual. I cleared my throat, how cliché. Stupid. I'd fallen for Nadia's trick: line, hook, and sinker.

"You flatter me, Nadia," Emily giggled, halting next to me, putting a tentative hand on my shoulder before whispering, "are you okay? You don't look too good."

I turned away from her, stepping out from under her hand, muttering a blunt, "I'm fine."

Callista followed, shooting me another one of her unreadable looks, probably noticing my pallor, probably thinking me some love-sick fool. They all did. They all watched me, read me like a book from the library — free for everyone to pick up. How it made me want to disappear. How it almost made me long for the solitude of the Void, where none could read me and none could see.

* * *

"I don't trust that old woman."

We sat around a small table, its cloth bedecked with a plethora of flowers. Each of us had been served a plate of food, all fresh and thoroughly seasoned — a big difference from the canned goods Callista had fed us, not even considering what the Abbey had offered us. Freshly baked bread covered in a variety of seeds was prepared alongside raw seafood, a seasonal yet rich meal. I felt dirty eating it.

"Who? Nadia? Why not?" Emily raised her eyebrows at me, her fork in her mouth, pushing against a plumb lower-lip — why was it still in her mouth?

"Because," I started, ready to defend my statement until her tongue had darted out to wrap around the silverware, trailing it slowly. I paused, the sight drawing me in, my pulse rising, my own lips remembering the tantalising touch of- "She told me I smell of silt and ozone," I blurted quickly, my brow furrowing, feeling my face heat at the propensity of the complaint.

"Hm," Emily hummed, a sound that more resembled a purr if you asked me. She promptly leaned in, crossing the table, the dark blouse she's chosen to wear that day revealing increasingly more cleavage the closer she got. She stopped, right in front of me, fork in hand, the tip of her nose bumping into my cheek as she went for my neck, her warm breath tickling my skin.

My pulse thundered, blood roared, hands clenched to fists around the stupid silverware. "What are you-"

She leaned back into her chair again, safely placing her fork on the table, those derelict lips puckered in thought. "Smells more like an earthy vanilla with a pinch of sea-foam to me."

I narrowed my eyes, "and how long have you been contemplating that exact assessment?"

"Honestly?" She smiled, leaning her chin atop her folded hands, elbows on the table — a disgrace to her royal upbringing. "Ever since that night in the hallway, but getting another good whiff of it never hurts."

Around us the sounds of cutlery hitting porcelain plates persisted, the murmur of people caught in casual conversation creating an unfamiliar ambiance to me. Emily's gaze bored into mine, her unflinching stare a heady mix of amber and gold. I reminded myself to blink, to breathe, to fight the brewing hunger none of this food could satiate.

"Although I'm sure the tale of 'that night in the hallway' is a mighty interesting one, I'd appreciate it if we could keep this lunch a bit more... professional." Callista eyed the both of us warily, her impeccable posture betraying little of her true feelings towards the conversation.

"Of course," Emily smiled politely, her gaze still locked with mine. Without looking, her fork had managed to pick off another soft piece of bread, raising the morsel to her mouth, her lips wrapping around it slowly, sensually-

My breath hitched, my gaze shooting down to my plate, away from the illicit sight ahead. Still I didn't miss the moan she let out, the sound humming through me, settling at last down my stomach where it smouldered.

"Violet," Callista whispered in exasperation.

"Hm?" Emily took her time swallowing the bite, allowing another poorly suppressed moan to escape. "My apologies, it's just so good to taste actual food again."

My back stiffened, my gaze shooting back up, catching the amused twist of those damned lips as realisation dawned on me: she was doing this on purpose. I felt my eyebrows pinch together in thought as everything clicked into place... her willingness to let go of her anger, her sudden touchiness. In the past, I'd had my fair share of temptresses, witches set out to seduce. Never had I fallen for their tricks, their ploys of the flesh — I wasn't, after all, made of flesh myself. They'd disgusted me; their overly-sensual mannerisms, their ridiculously bold contrivances. Never had it been genuine, never had they tried to reach beyond 'the Outsider'. But this was different... this _did_ affect me.

So as it turned out she hadn't let the argument slide, not at all. Instead, she'd chosen a different route by which to convince me, one more reliant on allure than words — a field she could easily outmanoeuvre me on, at any rate. After all, the odds were unfairly tilted in her favour; I'd already inadvertently outed my attraction to her. It would only be a matter of time until I'd break. I narrowed my eyes at her, tightening my grip around the silverware as I fought to extinguish the aggravating fire within my gut. I was over 4000 years her senior, I wouldn't be outsmarted by her tricks, I wouldn't allow her to play her siren games unpunished. She caught on to my shift of mood, the pleased smile that had curved her lips quickly fading. Good. I rolled up the sleeves of my plain, white shirt, before I reached forward, taking my glass and gulping down the water at once. All gone. "You're right, it does taste good," I sighed before I raised a hand, grabbing the attention of the waitress; a girl around Emily's age.

She was pale, as was to be expected from most people from Tyvia, her hair dark and sleek, covering just a bit too much of her face, eyes an arctic blue. I'd noticed her glancing our way several times, eyeing Emily in what appeared to be mild envy. I knew I could use that, envy in women was as sharp and cutting as any sword, one just had to know where to point the blade. She was quick to notice me, a polite smile quickly lighting up her features as she headed our way, notebook in hand. I watched Emily's expression turn from suspicion to plain confusion in a matter of seconds, her sharp eyes quietly observing my every move as she ate the rest of her bread in silence.

"May I help you?" The waitress offered me a timid smile, notebook held close to her chest, eyes flitting between me, Emily, and the paper. Good. Perfect.

I leaned forward casually, my elbow propped on the table as I rested my chin on top of my hand, my eyes focused only on her. I could feel Emily's gaze burn holes into my skin with its intensity, and the feeling did nothing but bring me a sly sense of satisfaction. I conjured the most convincing smile I could muster, using every last bit of lingering warmth my Void-forsaken-soul still possessed. "Yes," I started, voice purposefully low, words drawled with the kind of patience that belonged either to the immortal or those who considered whatever they were doing a phenomenal investment of their time — for now I liked to pretend it was the latter, "I was considering ordering another glass of water, but then I wondered if perhaps you could recommend me something… better?" I allowed my gaze to stray to her lips — obvious enough for her to catch on, but brief enough to make her question if I'd actually done it — before shooting her another inviting smile, quickly adding, "you look like someone of fine taste."

The girl turned a bashful red, lips parted, shy eyes unable to hold my gaze as I continued to stare her down. "You flatter me, sir, I-"

"Please," I leaned closer, shielding us from the rest of the table, "Matvey… Miss?"

She smiled again, still as red as ever, notebook inching ever-higher in an attempt to hide her flustered appearance, "Helin."

"Light of the sun," I mused, "a beautiful name to suit a beautiful girl- my apologies," I corrected myself, feigning slight nervousness, fingers rubbing my temple as my gaze darted to the floor, "that's improper of me."

"Oh, no- please," Helin responded immediately, notebook lowering, attention fixated solely on me, "it's fine, truly, thank you!" She sent me a reassuring smile, cheeks still flushed a hot red, and I knew I had her.

"Are you getting drinks or a marriage proposal?" Emily interrupted, Helin's timid gaze anxiously seizing up the unamused woman across from me.

I gritted my teeth, shooting the former Empress a spiteful glance, "you'll have to excuse my… friend," could I even consider her that? "She's very _thirsty_ , you see." I paused, narrowing my eyes at my supposed 'friend'.

"Oh that's rich," Emily laughed, crossing her arms. "Last I remember it was _you_ who wanted a _drink_ in the first place."

"Did I?" I recoiled, "because I seem to recall it was you who poured your _drinks_ all over my lap, asking me if I'd ever even had a _sip_!"

"Enough," interrupted Callista, the entire table falling silent. The waitress appeared at a loss for what to do, standing awkwardly between me and Emily. "Violet, make sure to pay the lovely girl for the exquisite meal. Matvey, no more _drinks —_ and I mean the actual drinkable kind. I've had it with the both of you, I'm off to bed." She stood, placing the cutlery atop her emptied plate, promptly walking away from the both of us without so much as a second glance.

Emily let out a groan, rubbing her temple with one hand as the other grappled into her coat for coin, retrieving several pieces and placing them on the table between us. "Thank you, Helin, for the delicious food," she smiled at the waitress, but even I couldn't miss the sourness of the expression. She then directed an annoyed look at me, "I suppose I'll just have to get something to quench my _thirst_ elsewhere."

I didn't like the implication of her words, not one bit, and I watched her leave in an open-mouthed stupor.

"I can see why you like her... she's really beautiful, confident," Helin spoke, her voice a soft mumble.

I turned to the girl, mentally reminding myself that I shouldn't feel guilty for using her, that my actions could hardly be of consequence — but I knew better, and that knowledge gnawed at me, an ugly thing that dropped down the pit of my stomach. I blinked, collected myself and stood, finding I towered over the small waitress. She didn't meet my gaze, stare instead fixated on her shoes. I reached out, fingers tucking her hair behind her ears, revealing her face. I didn't miss the hitch of her breath, her eyes darting up to look at me. "When she was twelve," I started, feeling the corners of my lips start to lift, "she cried for an entire week, because a man had told her she had the brutish features of a wolfhound." I didn't mention how the man had been a part of the Royal Guard, or that the comment had been made in regards to her mixed and illegitimate heritage. Instead, I shrugged, suddenly realising I was actually horrible at offering any helpful advice. I knew there was supposed to be a point, so I dished out the best I could think of on the spot: "turns out wolfhounds and pretty girls are really similar if you turn them inside out."

* * *

I'd spent most of the remaining afternoon wandering around town, hopelessly searching for the cursed church that probably didn't even exist anymore — just like how I shouldn't. My hands remained shoved away into the deep pockets of my coat, half my face safely ducked behind its collar. Still, the cold had gradually managed to sneak under my protective layers, its icy presence wrapping around my limbs, pinching my skin until it became purple and painful. I had forgotten what true cold felt like, how snow and ice soaked into your clothes, your flesh, until it glaciated your very bones and you felt like you might never warm again. By the time evening rolled around, I didn't even feel like eating anymore, the pangs of hunger replaced by the sting of cold. I wondered if Emily worried, if Callista slept soundly — senseless thoughts.

Eventually I'd dared head back to the inn, my boots trailing a path of snow, soaking the thick carpets that layered across the wooden floorboards. I'd glanced at Nadia, ignoring her greeting, headed up the stairs in stubborn silence instead. Her words had shaken me, their double meaning unclear, I didn't like that. When I entered the room shared by Emily and I, it didn't take me long to notice she wasn't there. The distinct sounds of running water came from the adjacent bathroom, its door closed. Figuring she was taking a shower, I directed myself towards the couch I'd claimed, noticing she'd neatly placed my paper bag on top of it. She probably expected me to weasel out of wearing the pretentious garb, but I wouldn't allow her the satisfaction of being right.

I changed into the traditional piece of clothing, its ornate designs matching with the surrounding room. I didn't even try to find out what my hair might look like, knowing any attempt at taming the unkempt mess to be futile. Instead I shrugged on my coat, covering the light blue hues of my outfit with a familiar shade of black. I left the room before Emily exited the bathroom, deciding to wait for her downstairs — where I would be safest from her potential scorn. Unfortunately, that also meant being in the same room as Nadia for an unknown period of time, a fact in which I hardly rejoiced.

"Going to the festival, I see?" Her voice rang out, the sound as unpleasant and unappealing as walking across shards of glass, I imagined.

"Not just an innkeeper, also a psychic, I see," I drawled, passing her desk without sparing her a glance, instead headed straight for the large couch across from the fireplace.

"My, you have quite the bite, don't you?" She chuckled, the old texture of her voice causing me to feel uncomfortable within my own skin.

I dropped down, taking a deep breath before pointing my gaze towards her, surprised to find her staring straight at me. The crackling flames warmed my skin, the fire's dancing light soaking me in orange. I was about to make a retort when a sound drew our attention. Looking towards the stairs, I caught Emily as she made her way down, her coat covering what appeared to be a dress, her hair still damp, its stresses rolling down her neck and shoulders in shiny waves. I rolled one of my rings between two digits, attempted to keep my posture as straight and composed as I could. This time she _had_ changed, this time she looked different. This time, I had to swallow the painful ache that weighed down on my chest, gripped my heart with merciless vehemence. She was beautiful... her skin a sunny, burnished olive, her hair dark and swirling as a rollicking night sky. I looked down, eyeing my boots, trailing the leather clasps that had withstood the ages. Reminding myself: I would not snuff out her light — would not pluck her to watch her wither. I was an anathema personified, a sacrilegious corruption of flesh.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here," she spoke as she reached the end of her descent, and I caught the earnest surprise in her tone.

I glanced at Nadia, noting her attentive stare, before forcing down the painful sting at the back of my throat — ready to surmount whatever weapon Emily might brandish this time, I hoped. "Wouldn't want to be anywhere else," I shrugged as I stood, all too aware of the old lady watching our every move, knowing her to be far too insightful.

Emily raised her eyebrows, her sceptic gaze lingering on me as she turned towards our hostess. "We won't be out for too long," she promised, a diplomatic smile on her lips, "when do you close?"

"Don't worry about it, child," Nadia waved a hand at her, "I'll give you the key to the front door. Enjoy yourselves, please." Her keen gaze turned to me, sending a chill down my back, "both of you," she smiled, her eyes crinkling kindly — frighteningly.

Emily happily thanked the old woman, taking the offered keys before turning to me, hesitating, gaze searching mine, trying to glean whatever I might be devising.

I smiled coolly in return, offering her my arm, trying to remain calm, trying to ignore the deafening drum that slammed against my ribs. She took it, eyeing me suspiciously, her hand settling into the crook of my arm perfectly, further wounding whatever humanity still remained within the hollow of my existence. I bit back my grimace, gaze darting down to the floor instead, shielding my eyes from Emily's inquisitive stare. The front door creaked within its hinges, the snow beyond greeting us with its wintry presence. I led her out into the cold, her silent presence trailing behind me, her observant eyes never leaving my face. The door closed, and Emily released me, leaving me to follow behind, more disappointed and hurt by her commitment to her promise than I liked to admit.

"If you're lucky, _Helin_ might be there," she threw over her shoulder, a venomous undertone to her voice.

"Who knows," I replied, feeling my spine stiffen, the muscles in my back pulled tight with tension. The streets were more crowded than I had expected, people flocking together to head to the center of the city. There was laughter, an air of excitement rolling off the large groups. A month full of partying, how strange, how demeaning. I felt a sting, a sharp pang of something. "I bet you'll be missing Wyman's company on a night such as this," I found the words slipping off my tongue before I could bite down on it. Emily stiffened, and I couldn't resist edging her on further, "I wonder how they're doing... have you?"

"Have I what?" Emily snapped softly, turning to look at me, her words a dangerous hiss.

"Wondered," I allowed my gaze to find hers, "about Wyman."

Hurt flashed across her face, followed by guilt, followed by a fire in her eyes fierce enough to sear my skin. The hints of an angry scowl twisted her features into a display of contained rage. "Truth is," her words were sharp, threatening, "all I've been wondering about is where to get a good last fuck to enjoy before we all die, Wyman included," she sneered, her perfectly white teeth exposed by a snarl.

Strangely, her anger excited me, heated my blood and fuelled an animalistic urge. It hurt, but it was a better kind of hurt than her smile, a better kind of hurt than the laughter that greeted us up ahead. I wanted more of it, yearned for her cutting remarks — the very quality Wyman had always detested. I wanted the sizzling tension that had thundered below my skin all day to explode. "For some reason it's always the nobility that stoop the lowest in the face of their own demise."

"I'll stoop as low as I want, and you'll get to do nothing but watch like you always do."

I stopped walking, feeling the words as they twisted up my insides, holding her indignant gaze with my own. She stopped as well, the candlelight of the surrounding lanterns reflected in her eyes, burning. Behind her a large bonfire roared, spreading a bright orange glow across a square filled with people. I opened my mouth, ready to throw another retort her way, ready to release more of my own hurt, when a voice rang out from the surrounding crowd.

"Violet, Matvey, how good to see you've made it!" A man approached us, dressed from head to toe in the most ridiculously detailed robes. Emily turned, warily eyeing our sudden guest, a confused frown on her features. "It's me! Artur," he grinned, his face unobscured by the hat and scarf this time. He was pale-skinned, his hair a russet-coloured mess. He looked like any other generic fool to me, but I still found myself watching Emily's reactions from the corner of my eye.

"Oh- oh, I'm sorry," she laughed, a complete turn-around from literally 2 seconds ago, "I didn't recognise you without the scarf."

I glowered at the unwelcome man, hoping he'd get the hint and leave.

"That's alright," he smiled, glancing at me, stiffening beneath my glare, "I… hope I didn't interrupt anything?"

Emily's gaze flitted between us, and I caught the flicker of calculation in her eyes, her features shifting into a farce of disappointment, "you did — I mean, not that's it that important, I…" she paused, biting her lip, orchestrating a sad frown. "I came here wanting to dance, but my fiancé just told me he won't." Her shoulders dropped in defeat, her entire posture an unspoken cry of misery.

Artur dared a quick glance my way, immediately looking away again, chased off by my persistent scowl. "I'm sure he'll change his mind after some of our fine wine-"

"He won't," Emily cut in, preventing me from having any say in the situation, "but if you'd be willing, you could perhaps offer me one dance instead?"

"I-" Artur blanched, raising his hands in defence, taking a tentative step back.

"Please?"

"I suppose," he cleared his throat, gaze darting to his feet, "if… your fiancé doesn't mind,"

"I do mind-"

"Nonsense, hold my coat would you, dear," Emily shoved her coat into my hands with enough force to push me back a step, effectively silencing me as I tried not to keel over.

By the time I had regained my footing she was already gone, leading Artur into the crowd, her dress shimmering with the glow of the bonfire, its fabric alight with hundreds of golden flowers. I followed, pushing through groups of people, ignoring their protests as I bumped shoulders with several of them. There was music, an overly excited violin that played a sickenly warm, joyful song. I was overwhelmed by the crowd: laughter, shouts and gut-wrenchingly happy conversations everywhere. Still I pushed through, fighting not to lose sight of the two figures ahead, Emily's dress an easy target. The further I got the more people danced, the sharp smell of alcohol stinging my airways, saturating my senses. Everywhere around me I saw glints and flashes, shiny objects, burning flames, cheerful faces. I was starting to become lightheaded, suffocated by the thickness of my own coat, by the sense that I did not belong here. I stopped, shrugging off the fabric, dropping both mine and Emily's to the snow-covered ground, not caring if we might lose them, desperate to be relieved of some weight yet feeling nothing change.

Up ahead, I noticed they had stopped, an attentive Emily listening closely to Artur's ludicrous teachings as he probably explained the dance to her. I tried to breathe, feeling as if a thousand eyes were staring at me; noticing the anomaly in the crowd. Her gaze trailed off, watching the other people closely, a strange expression settling over her the longer she watched, the dawning of something alighting her eyes before they landed on me — recognition stopping her breath, her lips parted in silent regret. I watched her excuse herself, a surprised Artur gaping after her before his typically Tyvian eyes landed on me — and everything hit me: the stupid architecture, stupid decorations, stupid traditions, stupid clothing, stupid people, stupid innkeepers, stupid music, stupid dances, and worst of all, stupid me. I turned on my heel before Emily could reach me, curses echoing in my mind, tainting my blood. The music had never sounded happy or warm to me — it was laughter at my expense, all of it, everything.

I didn't hear the offended gasps or angry curses as I plowed through the crowd without looking, my eyes pointed at my boots, watching the flames reflect off of the old leather.

"Wait!" Emily called after me as she tried her best to keep up, calling my name in an attempt to make me stop. I didn't, and it took all of her strength to pull me around as soon as she was able to grab me. My eyes snapped to her face, causing her to flinch. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I-"

"I don't care," I felt tired, weathered by a storm that had never ceased howling, "about any of this." I pulled away, wanting to leave, wanting to be gone, regretting how far I'd allowed her to take me.

Another pull, delicate hands holding on to me. "Matvey, listen-"

"I'm done, okay? I can't."

"Please talk to me, for once," she pleaded, gaze desperately searching mine. "Let me in," the words were a delicate whisper, another rehash of our earlier discussions, another battle of words. I didn't want to fight anymore, didn't have a clue how to deal with everything I felt.

"You want to get in?" I bristled, turning towards her, "you want to know how I _feel_?" That urge was still there, the overwhelming hurt that made me want to lash out, strike at whatever I could find. "Because I do feel! So fucking much it drives me insane! But no, you're right, let's just go out and party — let's all get fucking drunk and light a bonfire for the stupid idiot who never got to grow up!" I hadn't intended for my voice to break, but it did, and the emotion of it mortified me.

Emily's reaction was instant, her almond eyes gone round, those lips I'd kissed parted in bewilderment. "You know that's not what they're celebrating..." Her voice was paper thin, as fragile as her contention.

"Oh it isn't?" My movements were sharp, angry, confused. "Then tell me. What else happened 4000 years ago?"

"That's not what I meant — traditions, yes, they're born from an event, an idea…" she stumbled over the words, her hands wrapping around my arms, trying to pull me together, "but those get corroded over time... Chances are most people don't even know why they're celebrating, all they know is that they want to have fun!" She shook her head, those round eyes no longer filled with candlelight. "It's not like they'll bother understanding the customs — the world isn't some open museum where everyone wants to know every little meaning behind everything."

I froze, completely still, the beating of my heart overpowering every single other sound. "That's it..." Where had we passed it? When?

"What?" Emily frowned, her imploring gaze examining my features as I looked away, my own eyes searching the street we stood in.

I pulled myself free, starting into an immediate run, my boots crunching across snow-laden streets. Emily followed, confused by my sudden behaviour, still calling questions at my back. I ignored her, trailing buildings and memories, my eyes searching for familiarity. I found a path, recognised the houses, the small stores, until I halted across from a darkened structure: the museum.

"What are we doing here?" Emily questioned, panting as she stopped beside me, her breath forming thick clouds as she spoke.

I walked up to the front door, the windows showing not a single light, the surrounding street abandoned. Chances were everyone had left to enjoy the feast. I reached out a hand, channeling the galvanising energy I felt swirl within my abdomen, touching the painted wood with only my fingertips. I took a deep breath, mentally praying Sokolov wouldn't disappoint me, and released the electrifying power that followed my command. My veins were flooded with white, their brightness illuminating the panels I touched. Emily made a small sound of surprise, her head whipping around to see if no one else was there to watch. I released my breath, and the woodwork started to peel away, large parts of the structure disappearing, reforming, rebuilding — until only a small, white building remained: the church around which they had built the museum. It was a strange sight, a simple construction that felt utterly foreign and out of place. It was like looking in a mirror, and I was reminded of my reflection that afternoon, the ancient exterior before me an uncanny analogy to my own skin — a meaningless shell containing nothing but the burdens of the past. I pulled back my arm, noticing how the limb shook ever so slightly, betraying the impact the familiar sight had on me. The wooden panels slowly returned, rebuilding themselves out of thin air until the museum was restored to its original state.

"I didn't know you could do that," Emily's eyes roamed the building before us, trailing its wooden details.

"You should pay better attention," I deadpanned, searching for a way in, checking to see if the door was locked or not.

She ignored the comment, eyes still on the museum. "Are you going to break in?"

I felt along the doorframe, checking it, before taking a step back, never turning to look at the former Empress. "Of course," I mumbled, assessing my distance, preparing my muscles. I released one swift kick, and the door was open, revealing a lobby shrouded in darkness. I entered, eyes investigating the cluttered room, sweeping across framed pictures and dusty posters.

Emily followed, carefully closing the door behind her before joining me, her gaze tensely flitting over to me several times. "Listen," she started, and I felt inclined to ignore her, "about just now…"

"Let's not," I rounded the large desk at the center, headed for a door at the side of the room. I read the plaque that said 'staff-only' before checking to see if it was locked as well.

"I just feel so stupid, okay?" Emily followed, still babbling. "The answers were in front of me this entire time, yet I was too daft to connect the dots."

Pleased to see it wasn't, I turned the knob, revealing a small hallway that ended in a flight of stairs. A small desk was stacked with lanterns and matches, which I thankfully took, briefly inspecting the objects before offering them to Emily, knowing she'd be more capable of lighting the burner than I.

She took it without question, still talking, her delicate fingers working the strange contraption. "It all makes sense now, I mean…" she paused, a small flame coming to life at the end of her match before she used it to light the gas, "the cold, the flowers, the dance… the reasons why you wanted to come here."

"I'd really prefer it if you remained silent." I immediately took the lantern from her, sending her an annoyed look at her persistence.

Instead she just smiled, a strange expression settling over her features, "those clothes, it's like they're a part of you…"

I found myself glancing down, a knot in my stomach, the lantern illuminating the embroidered fabric. "I hate them," the words slipped off my tongue as I turned away, headed down the stairs, distancing myself again.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" She continued as she followed after me, undeterred by my petty comments, our feet causing the old steps to creak. We arrived in a large storage room, piles upon piles of items and objects stacked upon large cabinets. I paused, taking in every detail, feeling a soft hand wrapping around my shoulder. "Why didn't you say this was your home?"

The truth was like a slap to the face, and I flinched at the words, backing away from her touch, sneering, "I've never had a home." The lantern swayed, causing large blotches of light to travel across the room, across Emily's face, its glow bouncing off of different mirrors and glass surfaces. She looked sad, and I knew it was for me, which only served to worsen my anger — my skin was already tight with tension, and at that moment I felt the overwhelming amounts of pent up frustration and anger burst free. "In fact, I've never even owned clothes that weren't thrown to the fucking streets by somebody else, or had anything to eat besides rotten scraps to ease the constant threat of starvation." I felt my body start to shake, my hands clenched to trembling fists. "I've never had a mother who wasn't constantly weeping in despair, or a father who wasn't a violent alcoholic murderer!" I took a heated step forward, yet Emily didn't attempt to move away, her eyes still locked with mine as the light of the lantern danced off of our faces. "You beg me to let you in, unaware that as soon as I do you'll be begging to get out again — there is nothing I have to offer but shame and misfortune and misery. So, no, it's not you or your kiss I'm scared of, it's me! I am _nothing_ , so stop asking me to give you what I don't have!"

The quiver of her lip was so subtle I almost didn't see it as her eyebrows pulled together in anguish, "Ma-"

"No!" I silenced her, squaring my shoulders, trying not to crumble beneath her sorrowful stare. "I'm really, truly sorry I kissed you, okay? It was terribly selfish and stupid, so let's please forget about it and just do what we're supposed to do."

She hesitated, those soul-shattering eyes of hers staring at me in silence, my own heart a broken drum, until she finally cleared her throat, gaze darting to the floor, head slowly nodding in agreement. I turned away as well, feeling emptier than ever before, a heavy silence settling over the both of us. I had gotten what I wanted, hadn't I? I'd succeeded in pushing her away — because I loved her, I reminded myself. All because I loved her.

My body had started moving on its own accord, eyes investigating the open cabinets for anything useful, anything to help us make some progress. My words still bounced off the walls, left bruises beneath my skin. Soon Emily had started searching too, even if she had no clue what to look for, her hands digging up a large tome from one of the cabinets. I managed to spot only antiques, garbage and garbage antiques. Nothing felt like it stood out, nothing seemed to date back to my past. I rubbed my forehead, trying to push through my own fatigue as I continued my search. Behind me Emily seemed engrossed in whatever she was reading, her fingers flipping page after page. I was about to give up when I spotted an old chest at the back of the overstocked room, its design the oldest looking thing so far. I approached it, my fingers wrapping around the lid, slowly lifting the soot covered object. Inside there were only books and parchments, all yellowed and covered in centuries worth of dust. I quickly sifted through them, and at the bottom I spotted a dark little booklet that spelled 'дневник' on its cover. My heart stilling as soon as my eyes took in the familiar language. Frowning, I picked it up, my fingers rubbing along its damaged spine.

This was it. This was exactly what we needed. I took in a shaky breath, attempting to calm the surge of adrenaline at the discovery, realising we had to take it — all of it.

"Woah, did you know they once disowned one of the Tyvian princes for having a child out of wedlock?" Emily suddenly gasped in surprise. "Imagine if Gristol had been as strict…"

I glanced at her, putting down the booklet in my hand, feeling my throat close up as I watched her read and- I quickly abolished whatever emotion was about to grip my heart, reminding myself of my own words. I moved to a stand instead, my hands closing the lid before I turned back to her. "Come on, we have what we need," I gestured at the chest, my voice a hollow and lonely sound, "let's go."


	16. Love

_Месяц ветра 1630_

 _Today I saw her again, after all these years, my sight sharper in the absence of strong liquor. She disgusted me. Piece of filth. All of them — disgusting. She had not changed, no, not a bit. Typical. Still as poor as fucking dirt, dragging that mongrel along. I hate her. But more than that, I hate that little rat of hers… He has her eyes, by the Leviathan, he has her eyes. They look at me like I'm the monster, as if I made them the abominations they are. I will blind them. I will make them look away. I will blind them until all they see is their own worthlessness._

* * *

I had recognised the handwriting right away, the overly diligent strokes and heavily accented edges. It was silly to think about, a drunk writing with the practiced grace of the nobility, yet the pretentiousness of it made sense. That was all he had ever been, wasn't it? Pretentious. Enough so to act as if he was any better than the rest of us, as if he hadn't lived out on the streets all the same, as if he hadn't been right there to beg for food and more hard liquor to forget himself. I didn't know why I spent all night reading his diary instead of the other, more important documents. Could be curiosity, could be self-loathing, could be the fact that the couch I occupied by myself felt lonelier than the Void ever had. Or perhaps... it was all that paired with my current inability to sleep.

I hadn't noticed my eyes trailing over to the bed again until it was too late, the shape of Emily beneath the covers like a blow to the chest. I knew she was pretending to be asleep. Spending those days imprisoned with her had taught me at least that much. After taking the chest from the museum we hadn't really talked, despite us sharing a room. Instead we'd settled in our individual spots; she had gone to bed right away and I had dropped down onto the couch. I'd tried to sleep at first, the excessive amount of pillows soon kicked to the floor in frustration. Emily hadn't reacted as I'd tossed and turned again and again, her body perfectly still beneath the thick spreads. In the end I'd given up on finding a comfortable position, sourly realising most of my discomfort came from the lack of her.

I'd felt drawn to the booklet, its presence calling for me through darkness of the room. Trying to figure out how to work a lantern for what felt like an eternity, I'd at last managed to light it, retrieving the damaged little item from the stolen chest. I hadn't been able to explain why — not at first, at least — but I'd felt a strange familiarity towards it. I knew for a fact I'd never seen it before, yet it exuded a feeling of cognisance. Of course, I'd known exactly why as soon as I'd opened it, the characteristic handwriting all too recognisable. The first thing I'd noticed was that the pages had been shuffled, months and even years all scrambled up in order. There had been a different year-count back then, the first page starting in 1630, the year of my death. As I'd thumbed through several pages I'd noticed it went back even more years, the lowest I'd been able to find so far being 1614.

I hadn't thought of him as someone capable of writing down his life, keeping a diary, yet it fit him all the same; of course he'd think himself interesting enough to immortalise in paper and ink. Still it was strange, because these pages spoke more words to me than he ever had, revealed more of him than I'd ever been able to glimpse. I felt like, for the first time, I was getting to know my father.

* * *

 _Месяц дождя 1614_

 _I listen not to my father his heeding — he does not understand. Perhaps he would if mother was still here. Things would be different. But I remind myself, I must not lament what cannot be undone, it is a fruitless effort. Tonight, I see her again. She fears so, says her parents are traditional people. I comfort her with promises of riches and splendour. It is love, I am certain — and it is love that shall prevail._

 _Месяц ветра 1630_

 _The people continue to be sceptical. I suspect it will take more to sway their beliefs. Why is it they always demand the esoteric? Why is it they cannot recognise a higher power by its merits alone? I have accepted my role. I know it is my purpose. First I take away their food. If they will not follow me when I ask, then I shall demand. I bemoan the children, the young wives — but their sacrifice shall bring forth a new world. Their families would take pride in that knowledge, that is if they knew._

* * *

Exhaustion caused my eyelids to droop, my chin slipping off my hand several times.

"You look horrible," Callista commented as she cut her food to pieces, her cutlery hitting against her plate obnoxiously. I ignored her, rubbing my eyes wearily, the meal that sat on my own plate still untouched. Emily wasn't paying any attention to the both of us, her gaze glassy and unfocused as she stared off into absolute nothingness, her fork pushing her food around. "I take it either the festival was a real blast, or the exact opposite?"

"We found the church," I groaned into my hands, rubbing my legs together as I tried to get some feeling back.

"Wait- what?" Callista hissed, narrowing her eyes at the both of us, "and you didn't think to tell me right away?"

I shrugged, dragging my hands down the sides of my neck, massaging the nagging ache that had played up somewhere during the night.

"Violet?" Callista turned her attention towards her former pupil, a frown on her lips.

Emily seemed to snap out of whatever daze she'd been in, her gaze darting between the both of us questioningly, "pardon me?"

I allowed my eyes to stray around the small lunchroom, observing the surrounding people as they ceremoniously consumed their breakfasts, most of them either engrossed in a newspaper or caught in dull conversation.

"You didn't tell me you found what we were looking for," Callista raised her eyebrows in suggestion.

"Oh," Emily appeared just as tired as I was, "I- I suppose it slipped my mind."

Callista appeared sceptical, her scrutinising gaze flicking between the both of us. "And?" She pressed.

"We took something," Emily rubbed her temple as she stared down at her food, "I haven't looked at it yet, to be honest, I was too tired," she hesitated, gaze darting to me, "you'll have to ask Matvey about it."

The way she'd spoken my name had brought back the dull pain that had gripped my chest, a hollow sense of loneliness further crushing my heart. I cleared my throat, eyes averted, thinking of the small booklet, a private little thing. I wasn't inclined to share my discovery, feeling defensive over all that had been spilled onto its pages. "There's documents… you can't read them. They're in another language and I'm its last speaker."

Callista hummed in understanding, taking another bite, gaze burning into me. "What's in them?"

I closed my eyes, my lack of sleep causing them to burn painfully. "I haven't read them yet," I twisted the truth, and I hadn't missed Emily's curious glance that had seared my skin. I wasn't one to lie, and in theory I wasn't lying. But still, it wasn't the truth either. I'd already read those documents thousands of years ago, I just wasn't comfortable mentioning the existence of the diary.

"I take it you'll be looking into them?" Callista didn't question my answer.

"Yes," I replied, staring at Emily's shadow where it stretched across the floorboards, my mind replaying our exchange in the basement over and over again.

"Good, then eat," she nodded towards my plate, "both of you."

* * *

 _Месяц тьмы 1630_

 _I have done it. Finally, I have done it. I have snuffed out her life as she once snuffed mine. She had it coming. By the Leviathan, she should have known. She made her choice. This was simply her price to pay. It had been easy. The cold had gotten to her like many others of her kind, ate away her legs — always the limbs. Fucking bloody mess of severed flesh, disgusting. She should have been grateful: I put her out of her misery. I should be happy: my revenge consummated in her blood. Yet there is still turmoil within me, an emptiness that consumes my soul. It is the boy. It has to be. That fucking mongrel. Her eyes sit in his skull, her eyes still judge me, her eyes still reject me._

 _I will paint them black. I will make the both of them pay._

* * *

"Violet!"

I flinched as I recognised the familiar voice, my gaze reluctant to look up. The others turned, standing several meters away from me as I trailed behind, slouching sourly, hands in my pockets.

"Artur?" Emily seemed uncertain of his identity, the Tyvian's face wrapped up in a thick scarf once again.

"Ah- yes!" He laughed, pulling down the fabric, "I tend to forget — good to see you as well, Nora," he rubbed the back of his neck, a brainless grin on his irritating face. Emily offered him a polite laugh, its sound a painful jab to my stomach. "Listen I- I suppose I just wanted to see you were okay, I mean, you left in such haste yesterday…" he dared a quick glance my way. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, my mind working on replaying what I'd told Emily, again and again.

"Oh, that's alright," I could hear the smile in her voice, "I was feeling a bit under the weather…" she hesitated, and I felt the painful sting of her gaze on me, "I think it might have been the cold."

"Happens to a lot of newcomers, I understand, it takes some getting used to," he appeared to be building up his courage, and I felt my toes curl up in my boots at the thought. "Will you ladies give the festival another try tonight?"

"I-" Emily faltered, and I turned away from the group, gazing out into the street, biting whatever scathing remark was sure to leave my tongue otherwise, "I'm not sure I'll be feeling up to it… perhaps tomorrow."

There was a short pause, my chest tightening as I listened on, wishing to return to the inn, to the couch, to my skeletons. "A sure waste, you looked absolutely stunning in that dress." I imagined Artur's goofy smile as he spoke the flattering words, as he seized his chance at the first hint of an opportunity.

And I bit my tongue.

* * *

 _Месяц кланов 1614_

 _She tells me she is certain, she says she is with child. I cannot believe her words. This cannot be. She fears her parents might enact repercussions once they hear. Foolish girl. What of my father? So what if she is driven to the streets — it makes hardly a difference. Peasants. What of me? Has she considered all I have to lose? Does she even understand the gravity of my own fate? Of course not. I should have known better. I should not have expected such intelligence from a peasant. I commanded her to deal with our complication… discreetly. Instead she wept, claiming she loved the parasite, the mongrel. How can she love something she has never seen? More than she loves me, even? Selfish. That is all she is, all they are._

 _Месяц урожая 1628_

 _I have seen them. Fish the size of ships. Their jaws lined by ferocious teeth. Might I be the first man to gaze upon such beasts? I navigated their home, a vast and endless sea filled with air to breathe. Rivers streamed in opposite directions and light felt like darkness. It was a lonely place, a terrifying place. Still, I have not quite recovered from my encounters. Still, I wake at night, screaming. At first, I blamed the strong liquor, certain it had poisoned my mind. But then I had reached into my pocket, and clutched between my fingers I retrieved a rock: obsidian in colour, smooth as their skin. I can still hear their song. Oh, how I hear them sing._

* * *

There'd been a sadness in Emily's eyes as she'd closed the door behind her, following Callista, the both of them headed back into town. I'd insisted I stay behind, claiming my stomach bothered me — another half-truth. I hadn't eaten still, didn't want to. I preferred the gnaw of hunger, its painful pangs. It was familiar, the kind of pain I was used to. I wondered what had saddened her, even though I suspected I knew perfectly well — I found it saddened me too. It was an unpleasant feeling, to miss her while she wasn't even gone, not truly. More than anything, it was our conversations I missed, our silence a gut-wrenching reminder of our falling out. I felt listless, anguish weighing down on me as I laid on the couch, my joints stiff and muscles sore. I'd told them I'd look through the documents, I'd promised l'd help. Instead I felt my gaze linger on the small diary, the parting words of my past.

There were cracks in my resolve, tears and gashes that ripped into me and exposed my lamenting soul. I didn't know how to abate them — I had no idea how to cope. All I knew was how to justify my misery. All I wanted was to incriminate myself until no amount of heartbreak in the world could fill me with its regret.

* * *

 _Месяц урожая 1628_

 _I have reformed. I have found a higher purpose. It all makes sense now, my trials, my tribulations. I have been tested by a force greater than myself, and I have come out the other end. I had always known myself to be different. Mother told me all those years ago. Before the sickness took her. Another test. Another hurdle to overcome. I have been raised from mud and grime. I have seen the edge of the world and I have gone beyond._

 _He no longer laughed at me there. The Leviathan they all fear, surrounded by his kin. They disgust me. Their grotesque forms, slippery skin. Beasts. All of them._

 _Месяц Земли 1614_

 _She is beautiful. Wrapped in pale skin and crowned by dark hair. Eyes bright and fierce enough to pierce the soul. She is as virtuous as she is divine. By the Leviathan, I vow to capture her heart. I will not cease my pursuit. I will have her hand, I will enamour her soul. Father will understand. The people will, too. Do they not all love who they wish? Why should I be any different? Why should my life be dictated by rules and customs, if those bring me nothing but unhappiness? No. I will change those traditions. They fit no longer in a world as advanced as ours._

 _And then, then she will look at me with those eyes. Those beautiful eyes._

* * *

Emily had returned, not speaking a word, her presence thickening the air, the sound of her breathing a dull pain in my chest. I loathed the silence, suddenly realising how much I wished to tell her, how I yearned to share more of myself with her. It was stupid, self-indulgent, and absolutely unlike me. But it had felt so consoling to speak my sorrows, her willingness to listen an alleviating comfort. Instead, I continued to read, pretending she wasn't there, pretending I felt fine by myself. She had gone to bed, her tired body wrapped in those thick covers. I wondered what was on her mind as she lied awake, and I knew, despite my exhaustion, I wouldn't be able to sleep either.

They had been gone for hours, until evening had rolled around. I wondered if perhaps they had decided to go to the festival after all? Perhaps even with Artur. I didn't feel my hunger anymore, all of my pains joined into a single, ugly thing — all of my suffering blackening my skin from the inside out. Cut away the rot, that is what she'd taught me. But could I be capable of cutting away my own heart?

* * *

 _Месяц Песен 1615_

 _She tells me to choose. The witch, how dare she! How could she rob me of all I have? How could she betray our love! I am disgusted by her. Her and that grotesque thing that bloats her stomach. She pretends it is a gift, but it is none of that. It is a pure curse. A foul one. I was going to change things. I was going to make her life better. I was going to make all of our lives better. How could she be so ungrateful? How could she be so cruel? Yet those eyes look at me with feigned innocence, pretending it is still me she loves. Disgusting. She is nothing but a whore at this point. A sad, snivelling whore that has been kicked to the street. Serves her right._

 _Месяц тьмы 1630_

 _We have taken him. Bathed him first, then dressed in fine clothes. I have turned the mongrel into a proper prince — more than that whore ever has. I see myself in him. By the dead Leviathan, I see so much of myself. But more than that, it is her eyes that stare at me in judgement. He fears me now. Like he used to. It is of no consequence. He is but a pawn, a lamb for the slaughter. Let him judge all he wants, tomorrow his life ends and mine begins._

 _Месяц тьмы 1630_

 _We shall do it. A new world shall be born. No longer limited by that cursed Leviathan — instead, we create our own god, in our own image. Our puppet, our tool. Mankind shall rule the Void, and I? I shall be king. If only father could see me now, if only my disgraceful brother could, too. I would show them, I would let them know: I have always been the true prince, not just of Tyvia, of the world._

 _I shall reclaim my throne, and the ruinous mongrel shall bleed for it._

* * *

I dropped the book to the floor, numerous of its pages scattering near my feet. I breathed, still breathed, my hands wrapping around my head, my skull. I breathed, again, still, as my fingers wove through my hair, my nails scraping along my scalp, my skull. The words crept under my skin, my tissue, my innards, my soul. Ugly, twisted little words. Words made up of overly diligent strokes and heavily accented edges. I breathed, but this time the air wouldn't come, this time my throat closed up, choked by blood, slit by the edge of a twin-bladed knife. I coughed, again, again, again, convulsing, wheezing, rasping. Dying, a slow death, a painful death, a horrible death, an earned death.

They cheered my name, called my name. My name, leaving her lips, begging me to breathe. The colour of her eyes a warm delight like rare rays of sun heating my skin, begging me to come back and enjoy another day, another life. Her hands balled to fists, clutching my shirt, shaking me. I blinked, her face above mine, still calling my name. I realised I'd fallen, my body crumpled to the floor, next to the pages. "Breathe!" She called, her hands beating against my chest, wrapping around my face, swiping across my skin. It all made sense. Everything made sense. She lifted me, dragging me into her lap, cradling me in her arms as I tried my best to regain lucidity. I took a breath, a wheezing gasp, as my hands wrapped around my skull again, as I cowered, as I continued to gasp for more air. "Matvey?" Her voice wavered, dripping with fear.

I allowed my fingers to dig into my hair again, pulling the mess of strands, grasping for pain, tearing for relief. "It was me," I rasped, eyes wide, vision filled with yellowed pages, the epiphany of it all slowly setting in. "It was all me..."

"What are you talking about?" She was whispering, as if afraid too much noise might scare me away.

"I made him — I did it." My hands trembled as my back curled, the vertebrae of my spine close to cracking beneath the heavy weight that pushed down on me. I was weak, I was bleeding. Rot seeped from my skin, robbing it of life. In that moment, she was honey, she was salvation, and the thought of her leaving again felt like dying all over.

"Who?" She asked, hands traveling up my back, wrapping around my shoulders, trying to put me back together. I allowed her touches, relished in their comfort, their promise of safety. Like a desert remunerated by rain, I soaked up her very presence, her nearness finally alleviating the suffocating tightness around my heart. To me she was the golden nourishment to fight the black, healing my wounds with her sweetness.

"My father," I choked, clenching my eyes shut, my cursed eyes, "I'm the reason for all of it."

She hesitated, taking a shaky breath before scooting closer, slowly wrapping her arms around me, bringing me more of her solace. Hurt trickled down my skin like melted ice, leaving a painful sting, a lingering cold. I closed my eyes, feeling her limbs tighten their grip on me, their warmth pouring into me. I just wanted her to stay, I only wanted her to hold me. "Is there anything I can do for you?" She asked, her breath heating my shoulder. The question was so simple, so mundane, yet it left me winded. My breath hitched and my entire body stilled before I dared open my eyes, glancing her way. "Do you want to talk about it?" She suggested, her voice soft, soothing, caring.

My hands released their grip, lowering as I stared at her, my severe exhaustion causing every single one of my last stubborn thoughts to whither and die before they could take shape. "How?" It was a final plea, a tentative call for something human.

"You can start by telling me what you did," she suggested, fingers stroking along my skin soothingly.

I frowned, confused, grappling for the right words, my mind an absolute mess. "I-" I didn't know how to speak, feeling tongue-tied by the foreignness of it all.

"It's okay, I'm here. You can tell me," she offered gently, melting away whatever remained of my objections.

What had I done? I hadn't done anything, not directly, not personally. "I was born..."

She took my hand in hers, assuaging the bitter ache inside me. "And what's the crime in that?" It seemed so simple, so easy...

"I shouldn't have been," I rebutted, new waves of nauseating pain floundering my insides.

Her thumb stroked along mine, her patient gaze staring into my own reassuringly. "Was there anything you could have done to prevent it?"

I felt my brow furrow at the question. "No."

"Then how was it your fault?"

Waves of stone cold dread numbed my limbs, disrupted my pulse, and I knew it had absolutely nothing to do with what I was about to say, "I... I cost him his throne."

I felt her stiffen as the words made her realise, helped her understand what had shaken me so much. But she surprised me when her grip tightened, her hold around me growing firmer in a reassuring squeeze. She sighed, resting her cheek against my back. " _He_ did that to himself," she reasoned, "he made his choices and he suffered the consequences. Why would you blame yourself over someone else's mistakes? Why would you carry a burden that doesn't belong to you?" She made everything sound so logical, but logic had nothing to with it, there was no logic, none.

I turned towards her, feeling the need to see her — partly to know I wasn't alone, but also to find a final ounce of comfort in those amber eyes as I prepared to unravel my greatest terror. Within me I felt the pieces of my soul shift into place, every little memory her presence had brought to resurface, every forgotten detail her touch had unearthed. It all became one, it all became me. And with it came the reality of what had happened to _me_. It hurt, it was violent and ugly and unjust. It was gut-wrenchingly awful, and by speaking about it for the very first time in over 4000 years, it managed to hit me with the same amount of anguish as it had then. "Because if I don't, then why did he cut my throat?" I hadn't noticed the sting behind my eyes, the painful prickle of emotion, until a single drop trickled to the floor, leaving a darkened stain that soaked into the wood.

She paled, her lip quivering, her eyes flitting down to my neck before she could stop them. "Oh-" she shook her head, her pained gaze meeting mine again, her hands hesitantly reaching up to hold my face, swiping at the traitorous trail that left a chill on my skin. "Oh no," she breathed, shakily, her own horrified eyes watering, her eyelashes sticking together as tears seeped through them.

I flinched, yet I didn't pull away from her. "I don't need your pity," I croaked, trying my best to hold on to the last shred of dignity I had, fighting off the burning shame at my own frailty.

She shook her head, more tears rolling down, her lips pulled into a tight line, "I don't pity you," her voice was as hoarse as mine, "I mourn you."

The words struck at me, bringing my walls to crumble, exposing my palpitating soul as it withered beneath her gaze. "Why?" I cursed myself for asking, yet yearned to know, yearned for something beyond what I deserved.

She didn't answer for a while, perhaps considering the question, perhaps not even knowing the answer herself. "If only you saw yourself the way I do," she spoke then, her gaze roaming my features, her fingers stroking along my skin, tenderly, running down my temple, my cheek, my jaw. There was so much warmth packed into the simple gesture, so much care, so much... tenderness, Callista's words still fresh in my mind.

"Show me," I found myself whispering, mesmerised by her, my aching chest fluttering back to life at her touch.

She considered the words, her eyes still traveling my face, her lips parted in wonder, before she raised herself to her feet, pulling me along with her as her hands wrapped around mine. I followed, silently, as she guided me to the bed, softly pushing me down. I had to raise my chin to keep looking her in the eye as she stood before me, surprising me when she bent down to unbutton my shirt. Her fingers worked slowly, gently, as her eyes followed their path. The fabric parted, revealing my chest, my stomach, my skin. She lifted the piece of clothing, guiding it down my arms. Then she righted herself, her hands set on loosening the hem of her nightgown, nimble fingers working on undoing its buttons as well.

"Em-"

"Shh," she shooed me, a finger pressed against my lips, "no more barriers," she whispered before resuming her work, the fabric revealing more and more of the dusky skin beneath. I found myself wanting to look away, uncomfortable with her sudden forwardness, but she used a hand to guide my gaze back to her. She swiftly raised the article of clothing over her head before dropping it to the floor, leaving her in only her undergarments, her chest exposed. For a moment she stood there, tilting her head at me, watching me carefully, until she finally parted her lips. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"

I didn't move, taken aback by her question. My gaze boring into hers, trying to ignore the shivers that ran down my back. "I- yes,"

"Do you believe me when I tell you I think _you_ are?" She immediately followed up, eyes never leaving mine, eyebrows raised in question.

I couldn't stop myself from glancing down instinctively, my gaze taking in my pale skin and wiry build. "No," I admitted, casting my eyes to the floor.

She reached for my hand, pulling it towards her, pushing it up between her breasts, above her heart. I felt its beat beneath my palm, the same erratic and out of control pattern as my own, revealing her own battle with nerves. "Do you now?"

I swallowed, glancing at my limb, the warmth of her skin embracing mine, "no," I spoke again, earnestly.

She moved, slowly, allowing me plenty of time to resist as she crawled across my legs, folding hers on either side of me, the mattress dipping beneath our joint weight. I watched in silent wonder, hand still taking in the nervous beat of her heart, noticing the way it danced and fluttered beneath my palm, its pace quickening the closer she got, skipping several beats as she allowed herself to sit down in my lap. She was close enough for her chest to touch mine, the peaks of her breasts skirting along my skin with every heavy breath she took. Her hand hadn't left mine, keeping it in place, clutching it to her heart as she lowered her face. Our breaths mingled, the tips of our noses bumping together as her other hand ran through my hair and settled at the back of my head. She held me in place as she gradually closed the distance, and I felt my eyes slide shut on their own as her hand slowly made its descend down my neck, my chest, palm coming to rest above my own throbbing heart. I felt the warmth of her mouth before it touched mine, the darkness of my closed lids replaced by a sea of light as soon as our lips met, softly, longingly, drawing a sharp gasp from mine as my pulse stuttered.

The contact was brief, almost bittersweet, laden with a thousand sensations. I picked up on her equally racing heart, realising she was as affected as I, her skin heating beneath my palm. She pulled back, only slightly, lips still hovering above mine, breath still tickling my skin. She whispered, yet it took me some time to hear the words, the sound delayed by my inability to process every little sense that had sprung to life at her touch, "do you now?"

I opened my eyes, lips still parted, noses still touching. I was greeted by a sea of warm amber, its waves rolling invitingly, their golden depths glimmering. "Yes," I found the reply slipping from my tongue, the heart beneath my palm beating a lopsided rhythm at the word.

"Do you think I'm deserving of love?" She asked then, the hand that had wrapped around mine tightening its hold.

"Yes," the answer was instant, honest.

"Do you believe me when I tell you I think you are?" She asked again; same question, different meaning.

I hesitated, air stuck in my throat, my chest constricting painfully. "No," I admitted breathlessly.

The supple curves of her chest pressed against mine, my body responding immediately, the smouldering heat at the pit of my stomach roaring to life, crackling through my limbs, my mind. Her lips retook mine — slowly, tenderly, soothingly — causing my vision to flood with another aurora and my pulse to flutter weakly. Her hand released my own, her arm wrapping around my shoulder, fingers trailing down my back as she drew me closer, our stomachs inches apart, the hands on each other's chests close to touching. I found my free arm moving on its own accord, slipping up her leg, coming to rest on the small of her back, feeling her muscles move beneath her skin as she arched beneath my touch. My entire body flooded with warmth at her tender attention, a feather-light feeling drawing me closer, pulling me into her. Her kiss was ephemeral, her lips lacing mine with their savoury taste, a tantalising mix of honey and spice. She drew my breath with her when she parted, her mouth still lingering inches from mine, painfully close. "Do you trust me?" The words were air against my skin, yet I felt them resonate within me.

"Yes," I wasn't even sure if I spoke the reply, my senses all flooded by her curative presence.

"Then listen, don't speak." The hand she held to my chest pushed me down, her arm sliding off my shoulder, the bed soft against my back. "Keep your eyes closed," she hovered above me, her hair brushing my face, my neck, "and let my words be your mirror."

I swallowed nervously, fear and uncertainty gripping my mind as I tried to listen to her, my eyes still closed in obedience. I felt apprehensive, afraid, yet curious.

"Tell me if you need me to stop." Fingers trailed across my forehead, swiping through my hair, parting the strands, jolting my heart. I nodded, feeling more exposed than ever before. I could still feel her heartbeat against my hand, its rhythmic pulse a comforting reminder of her own vulnerability. She was with me, together, joined through our palms. She continued to caress me, every stroke sending ripples of static through my skin, jolts of electrifying energy sizzling down my spine. It was like magic, except it lacked the violent promise of power — instead, it was poignant, evocative. She raised herself as she straightened her back, gaze looking down on me. Fingertips darted across my cheekbones, stroked along my jawline, skirted over my lips. "When I look at you," she spoke with a softness reminiscent of a lover, "I see pale skin marred by lines and grooves. Lines of worry," her fingers stroked down my forehead, "of sorrow and anger," down between my brows, "yet no lines of laughter, or merriment, or joy." They travelled down my temple, around my cheek.

The words pelted down on me, hitting places I didn't know could be hurt, my chest caught in the vice of her honest observations. "There's a perpetual anger there, a bitterness that anchors your expressions," she took a small breath, and I felt how her heart faltered as she prepared to continue, "but your eyes…" I found myself clinging to every word she said, absolutely intrigued by the opportunity to see a different me. "For all the control you wield schooling your face, your eyes seem incapable of being anything but brutally honest. Looking into them, I often find myself utterly consumed by their intensity — it can be like losing yourself, and sometimes I'm uncertain where you end and I begin." She took another shaky breath, "it's beautiful, overwhelming, terrifying. I've never met anyone with such an unguarded gaze…"

I hadn't been aware, her words chilling me with their implication, my mortified mind instantly recounting every interaction I'd ever had. "When I listen to you speak," she continued, "I find myself drawn in by your knowledge, your intellect, your wit. You're so smart, so well-spoken, yet you never seem to give yourself any credit." She ran her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp, the muscles of my body turning to liquid at her soothing touches. "Interacting with you is an absolute challenge — yet I find it never ceases to excite me, your scalding words and weaponised facts always sharp and cutting, always keeping me on edge. But at the same time, there's this habit of yours where you're suspicious of nearly everything, seeking ill-intent where sometimes there is none. Still, when people talk down to you, you take it. You never set out to defend yourself or your choices, you never take any pride in yourself or your actions. But you have so, so much to be proud of." She smoothed out the frown that had settled between my brows, her words challenging my entire understanding of who I was, or rather who I was supposed to be.

"You're empathetic, sensitive, selfless to the point of self-sacrifice. You always put the needs of others before your own. Even as the Outsider, _a god_ , you gave humanity the biggest gift you had to offer; their freedom. Freedom of choice, freedom of thought, freedom to do and act exactly how they wished. You could have had the world to worship you, yet you allowed them the liberty to hate you. You carried their blame, their mistakes, their misfortunes." She let out a shuddery breath, her heart dancing beneath my palm. "It took me some time to understand… And even now I feel like I still have so much more to learn — but what I am convinced of, from the bottom of my heart, from my very soul, is that you, Matvey, are a _good_ person." This time her heart leaped at the words, her voice laden with conviction. "You do not deserve any of which you've gone through, you do not deserve your self-hatred or anyone else's for that matter. I want you to cling to these words, as desperately and tenaciously as you cling to your own beliefs. I want you to experience the life you've always wanted… I want you to find the love you undeniably deserve."

I opened my eyes, staring straight into hers, surprised to see more tears rolling down her cheeks. I felt breathless, weightless, mindless. And in my mindlessness I found myself asking the one thing I desperately yearned to hear from her, "do you love me?"

Her heart skipped a beat, her skin flushed, her lips parted. "Yes," she nodded, eyebrows tensing together, "with all my heart."

Said heart thudded against my palm, its beat echoing her words, kissing my aching soul with its adoration. It felt unreal, unbelievable, impossible. Centuries of meaningless existence felt suddenly purposeful, because I was here, wasn't I? With her. And I would die a thousand deaths, last a thousand more years — if all that meant I got to meet her in the end. I retrieved my hand from her chest, raising myself, thumbs wiping away her tears, hands cupping her cheeks as I rested my forehead against hers. "Then don't cry for me, Emily," I stared into her eyes, gaze flitting between them as I observed the smouldering flickers of affection within their depths, "Promise me you won't cry for me." She nodded within my hands, teeth worrying her lower lip, glimmering eyes never leaving mine. "Because I don't care what happens to me, whether I live or die, whether I get what you think I deserve, all I care about is that you're happy."

"Then be with me," she breathed, igniting an explosion of shivers across my skin, her hands wrapping around mine, "that's all I need."

Need. Such a funny word. How often had I considered my own needs? How often had I disregarded my own wants? How often had I cursed myself for wanting all I needed? Because all I really wanted was her, all I really _needed_ was her. I let out a shaky breath, allowed my eyes to stray down to her lips, those lips that had managed to make me feel all she believed, had told me more with their kiss than anyone's words ever had. Perhaps that was what it all came down to, perhaps those were all the words I had never been able to observe, the communion of unspoken secrets that would remain between lovers alone. This was humanity, this was life.

 _And I wanted to live._

I kissed her. My lips firm, yet gentle. Inexperienced, insecure, yet brash and genuine and wholly certain: I wanted her. I wanted her. I wanted her. I had always wanted _her_. She froze, if only for a second, until she gathered herself, gathered her thoughts and seemingly convinced herself that she wouldn't allow me to pull back this time. Her heated response consumed me, her lips moulding against mine feverishly, hungrily, almost desperately. I allowed myself to match her eagerness with my own, our teeth colliding several times, the pain sharp and invigorating. Her hands tightened their grip, pulled mine away from her face, pinning my arms above my head as she forced me to lie back down. The sensation briefly reminded me of the altar, the ropes, the sacrifice — but those visions were cut short by her tongue, feeling a white hot fire engulf me as it hungrily darted across my lips. She rolled her hips in my lap, eliciting a rumbling moan from my throat that had her trembling in response, a soft whimper escaping her.

The sound was enough to drive me over the edge, instinct taking over as I overpowered her with surprising ease, pinning her beneath me, her legs wrapping around my hips. Our noses bumped into each other as I lingered inches above her waiting lips, taking in every little detail I could discern: every little sound she made, every delicate movement that whispered to me its covetous promises. There was a strange wonder in her gaze, a look of mindful intrigue that shaded her eyes with its underlying hunger. I savoured the inviting pucker of her lips, the arch of her back in a silent plea for more; more of me. She coiled her hips against mine in response, drawing the air straight from my lungs as I fought the moan at the back of my throat, my eyes forced closed as I struggled to maintain a sense of control. I dropped my head into the curve of her neck, my breath released in hot pants as my hands slid off her wrists to join palms, fingers intertwining in a desperate clutch. I could feel the beat of her heart against my chest, the influx of air in her lungs as well as the soft swell of her breasts that aided my desire.

She continued to cover me in hungry kisses, traveling from the side of my face down my to my neck, nipping my skin in silent demand. I grew increasingly more desperate to satiate my burning arousal, my hardening need driving into her, my vision filling with blinding static every time she bucked her hips into mine. Soon my own mouth travelled down her slender throat, teeth scraping along her heated flesh, tongue savouring the enticing taste of her. She arched into me, releasing a needy moan as I left tentative kisses down the junction of her neck. We were slowly conjoining into one, my body eager to curl into her warmth, the muscles of my back rippling beneath my skin as I flowed with her bending form. I was starting to lose myself in her, my mouth recapturing hers needfully, only realising she'd pulled her hands from mine once they had started on removing my pants. I lifted my hips to facilitate her, her fingers latching beneath the hem, pulling them down my legs before working on her undergarment. I shifted my weight, freeing my arm to help her remove the final article of clothing, my feet meanwhile pushing my own to the floor.

We were both naked then, our chests heaving as each of us tried to catch their breath. I still leaned to one side, my right elbow buried into the mattress, my other hand caressing her flushed face — repeating what she had done to me, fingers stroking along her captivating features, her otherworldly eyes gazing at me. She was the kind of beautiful that encapsulated the very essence of it, the rawness of her sharp bone structure, the gentleness of her soft contours, thick lashes, sharp eyes, sensual mouth — I could find myself staring at her all day and still be left wanting. "I love you, too," the words tumbled down my lips, just like that, straight into eternity, straight back into the Void.

"Show me," she panted, raising a hand to cup my face, pulling my lips back down to meet hers. She wrapped one of her legs around me again, the limb pushing against my back as she arched into me, her entire body pleading for me. Our tongues met, another moan rising from her chest, her soft breasts pressing into me as her leg continued to pull me in closer. I centred myself, the arm I'd been leaning on traveling down her leg, stroking along her silky skin. The other held her to me as I bit down on her lip, drawing another ragged breath from her lungs. Her own hands had started their descent, leaving a path of embers down my back as her fingers trailed along my skin, circling down to my sensitive stomach.

I broke our kiss gasping for air, my lungs burning, heart violently pounding in my ears. Her heady eyes gazed into mine hungrily, darkened by her need, those pools of amber swimming with longing. I didn't break eye contact as one of her hands wrapped around my length, impatiently guiding it towards her entrance. She allowed its tip to slide down her dewy skin and stars burst bright enough to force me to close my eyes, my skin erupting in goose bumps, a throaty moan reverberating through my chest. She paused, allowing me a moment to recover, still holding onto me. I took her other hand into mine, weaving my fingers through hers, clutching down on the limb as I braced myself before slipping inside. I buried my face in her neck, biting down on my tongue as a weighty kind of pleasure rippled through me, rolling beneath my skin in heavy waves, blinding me as its flashes sparked behind my eyelids. She let out a shaky gasp, her nails raking down my back, drawing red lines across my pale skin. I paused, left begging for air as I pressed my face into the curve of her neck, eyes clenched shut as I clung to what remained of my control.

I was aware I had no experience, no practice to draw from, but that didn't mean I was ignorant. I had been listening, time and time again, as women huddled together to giggle about their lovers, as men boasted about their escapades. I had been witness to both sides for centuries, and I found my pleasure riddled mind still capable of recalling what had passed from lips, to ears, to practice. If anything, I was a perfectionist, and I found myself wanting to fulfill her demand until she was left incapable of thinking, until she could no longer formulate the words to question mine. I took another breath, fighting the creeping sense of release, forcing my mind to stay collected as it was overcome by rapture. My pulse had started to slow, despite the adrenaline that had flooded my system, my heart calming as I controlled my breathing. I opened my eyes, the surrounding room much brighter than it had been, my pupils dilating as my entire body rode the ecstasy of our union.

I turned her face towards me, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine, her lips parted as her chest danced beneath my own. My thumb stroked along her jaw, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. I closed the distance between our lips, covering her mouth in mine, my tongue flicking along her lower lip as I regained enough discipline to draw my hips back, the movement itself sending another gratifying shockwave of white-hot bliss through me. I squeezed her hand, still breathing deeply enough to keep from losing myself as I thrust back inside her, her body arching into me, her moan swallowed by my kiss. She clung to me, her breathing fast and shallow, her fingers digging into my skin. I bit back the overwhelming thrill that shot through me, allowing my hand to slip down her throat and towards her chest, cupping her breast in my palm, bringing her closer to me as I thrust again, taking my time, my thumb circling her hardening nipple.

She rolled her hips in response, pushing into me impatiently, her hand guiding my back as she tried to coach me into picking up pace. I intervened instead, hand leaving her chest in favour of wrapping around hers, pulling the limb away from my back as I forced it above her head. I thrust again, this time even slower, her own hips bucking into mine out of defiance. I ignored her, feeling a satisfactory smile curve my mouth as she bit down on my lower lip in frustration. Another slow thrust, followed by her sharp gasp.

"Please..." she was hoarse, her voice a breathy sound, "I know you're doing it on purpose," she complained.

"Am I?" My nose rubbed along her cheek as I moved my hips, thrusting into her with a little force this time, eliciting another gasp from her.

"I swear to the Void, Matvey, I will make truth of those crooked cock claims if you don-" she was interrupted by another thrust, her body left squirming beneath me as she attempted to regain some control.

"Mhmm," I hummed, placing kisses down her neck, my entire body thrumming delightfully, "my apologies, Your Majesty, it would seem I am a bit rusted after 4000 years, you'll have to excuse the delay."

"Rusted my Royal ass," she hissed, coiling her hips, driving me to bite back a groan. She used the moment of weakness to her advantage, quickly rolling us over, forcing me on my back. She sat on top now, her hands resting on my chest as she smirked down, her hair a wild mess. I stared up at her through lidded eyes, feeling increasingly dizzy as she held me inside her, the nerves that ran beneath my skin overloading with delicious static. "Watch and learn," she teased huskily, her hands spreading across my chest for support as she lifted herself slowly before sliding down in a circular motion, her hips twisting above mine enticingly. I suppressed another groan, not wanting to give in, my hands grappling for the bedsheets. Then she picked up the pace, repeating the motions, drawing out every twist. I quickly felt myself drown in exhilaration as wave after wave hit me, my mind soon overtaken by my own thundering pulse. Yet I refused to give in, not wanting to allow her the satisfaction of watching me unravel just yet.

I surprised her by using my hands to caress places I knew would drive her over the edge, suddenly overtaking her control by thrusting upwards. Her response was instantaneous, the victorious smirk wiped off her face as I picked up my pace, the muscles across my stomach tightening. Every thrust was met by her gasps for air, her hands clutching my shoulders for support. Her breathing became increasingly shallow, and I knew I didn't have much time left. I flipped us over again, feeling my own body start to reach its limit, my pulse speeding up as I felt the first blissful hints of release start to eat at my resolve. I used a hand to raise her hips, angling them towards me as the first torrent of my own climax swept over me, my veins filling with liquid fire as my vision turned completely white. I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to distract myself, to fight off the overwhelming inferno that consumed me. Emily's nails continued to drag down my back, her teeth grazing my shoulder as she met my every movement until I finally felt her tighten around me, her arm pulling me into her as our stomachs united, our speeding hearts joined through our heaving chests.

She let out a cry against my skin, the sound buzzing through me, furthering my own release as I lost track of everything, as my muscles were overcome by a sea of numbing charges of titillating electricity. I felt my arms wrap around her, squeezing her to my chest, our skin melting together like fluid, our bodies ablaze and left shivering as the colder air of the room brushed against us, raising goosebumps in its wake. Dropping to our sides, we remained entangled, our limbs woven like tapestry, our foreheads pressed together as our breaths mingled to the point where I wasn't sure whether I was breathing air or just her. Her scent was everywhere, that sweet honey-like smell that never ceased to leave me lightheaded. For some reason, her embrace left me feeling more eternal than immortality ever had, a strange euphoria rushing through me, filling my veins with liquid gold.

"You're glowing," she smiled, a sense of awe colouring her voice.

My eyes fluttered open to meet her gaze, starstruck by those amber pools that pulled me straight back under, their warmth flooding me through sight alone. "That's really sweet, Emily," I croaked, "but pregnancy in men is beyond even my abilities."

She snorted with laughter, and I couldn't contain my own goofy smile at the sound. "No, I meant li-" she cut herself off, her gaze trailing my features as her own grin lingered, "you're breathtaking when you smile," she whispered, causing my heart to stutter. I didn't know what to say to that, her earnestness leaving me tongue-tied as my own gaze flitted across hers, trying my best to comprehend the reality of it all. My mind had a difficult time understanding that I hadn't imagined any of this, that she was truly here, in my arms, skin to skin. She frowned, then, a hand parting the strands of hair that framed my face. "Promise me you're not going to push me away again." There was a vulnerability to the words that had a tightness gripping my chest, her eyes large and unguarded.

"I promise," I secured my grip around her, touching our noses together, "I'll remain by your side for as long as you want me to."

She smiled a smile that turned my insides straight into Sokolov's unappetising goop, "then you better be prepared, because I'm not planning on letting you go." She shifted in my arms, curling up against my chest _,_ nuzzling me with her cheek.

I felt absolutely star-struck, her words causing my heart to beat a lop-sided rhythm, my stomach flipping over in overwhelming delight. How was I supposed to sleep ever again? How was I to rest when my entire body thrummed with euphoria? I couldn't even manage to close my eyes, fearful that if I did all this might disappear, dreading to think this moment would come to pass. Nothing meant anything without her presence, without her soul cradled in mine. She sensed my restlessness, raising her head, pressing a chaste kiss against my lips before whispering, "let's get cleaned up, see if we can catch some sleep after that."

She stood, hand wrapping around mine, pulling me off the bed with her. I followed, noting how small she appeared now, even though I was well aware she would be considered tall by most people. When you were used to the Void, to endless depths and towering structures, everything might look small in comparison. But perhaps it was my own height that emphasised hers, or perhaps I still wasn't quite used to walking by her side to begin with. My gaze observed her body as it moved before me, leading me to the bathroom, the surrounding candlelight accentuating every toned muscle moving beneath her olive skin. She was the very image of control, of strength and finesse. Gracious, yet lethal. It filled me with an outlandish sense of pride to know someone like her could fall in love with someone like me, her words still replaying in my mind, the memory of her lips still fresh on mine.

She opened the door, lighting the small lantern that hung from the wall, illuminating the quaint space ahead. The bathroom was small, one corner occupied by a white bathtub, the other by several baskets containing towels and soaps. In front of us stood a sink flanked by a body-length mirror, and there were more carpets, of course, cushioning my feet as I stepped in. The walls were tiled, decorated by hand-painted florals like everything else in this town. I avoided the mirror, eyes trailing after Emily instead, observing her as she moved around, retrieving washcloths and soap before heating the water.

"Turn around," she soon ordered, hand wrapped in wet cloth, a delighted smile curving her lips. I eyed her warily, not wanting to face the mirror, but also not daring to make a fuss — so I complied, gaze cast to the floor, observing my pale toes as they sunk into the thick carpet. "Well if it isn't the tightest ass of the isles," Emily proclaimed loudly, earning an unexpected snort of laughter from me, my head turning to send her a look of mock exasperation. She was biting her lip as she grinned, her pearly teeth exposed and her cheeks flushed, the tan skin of her bare shoulders aglow in the firelight. "Eyes forward, mister," she reprieved me, inching closer before pressing the wet cloth against my shoulder, slowly sliding it down my back and leaving a trail of warmth. I took a deep breath, allowing myself to relax as I closed my eyes, following her motions in my mind. "We could use the bath tomorrow," she suggested playfully, "see if we can wash the filth of our sins away."

I hummed, feeling my muscles move beneath her pressure, "you should know I as the Outsider would never condone such things." She had slowed down to a gentle caress, the cloth warming my skin as it travelled down my hip, around my posterior, spending a suspicious amount of time on my- "are you fondling my ass?"

"So what if I am?" She challenged, "it's a nice specimen."

I felt my face heat as my eyes shot open, sending her a sceptical look through the mirror, catching her lithe form hidden behind mine. She circled me, dragging the cloth across my chest, down my stomach, her curious gaze following its path, brow furrowed in concentration. I found myself observing her in return, my eyes darting across her bronzed skin, taking in every subtle curve and sharp edge, thinki-

"It's not crooked at all," she suddenly noted, casually, the words causing me to choke on my own breath.

"I thought we already established that?"

She shrugged, gaze still scrutinising me, "just thought I'd check again."

I took the cloth away from her, ignoring her protests as I rinsed it before turning back. "Enough checking, your turn," I cut her off, swatting away her hands as she tried to retrieve the piece of fabric, thankfully giving up as soon as I started dragging it along her skin, watching her sway beneath its touch. I was reminded of our imprisonment, when men behind masks had washed her in a similar way, her body exposed to their uncaring treatment. A nauseating pang shot through me at the thought, and I found my other hand following the cloth, caressing her dampened skin. She shivered beneath my touch, and I found myself glancing at the mirror, catching her with her eyes closed and her teeth worrying her lip. I smiled at the sight, a pleasant warmth settling in my gut as I continued to wash her. The act itself seemed so inconsequential, yet the vulnerability of it — the sheer consideration and care for another — left me feeling... needed.

"Don't think I don't feel you groping my ass, you pervert," she accused, instigating the amused smirk that twisted my lips.

"It's a nice specimen."

* * *

She had dragged me back to the bed, allowing me no opportunity to return to the couch — not that I had even wanted to. We hadn't bothered dressing ourselves again, and I was happy for it, her soft skin a delight to feel against mine. I had wrapped her in my arms as soon as she'd laid down, pulling her into me, my legs intertwining with hers. She had let out a contented sigh, resting her head against my chest, causing my pulse to flutter rapturously. I feared all that was to come, dreading our uncertain future together — but I quickly reminded myself none of that mattered. What mattered was what was right here, right now, a moment in time no one could ever take away from us. This time the sun wouldn't rise, reality wouldn't shift back into place to tear it all to pieces, not here, not in this city where the night never ended. And I smiled into her hair, still recollecting every word she'd spoken to me, rejoicing in the knowledge that, no matter how I felt about myself...

 _She_ loved me.


	17. Breathe

I was roused from slumber by the gentle caress of a tentative hand, fingertips stroking along my temple, skirting down my jaw, weaving through my hair. My first instinct was to react with fear, my eyes shooting open to spot any possible threat; the room was shrouded in darkness, and so it took me a while to realise I recognised the smiling face in front of me, my own gaze met by Emily's amber stare. Her pearly teeth worried her lower lip as she continued to smile at me, the expression causing her glittering eyes to crinkle.

"You looked so handsome while you slept," she spoke in a soft murmur as her shining gaze continued to roam my features, eagerly drinking up every little detail. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart, the grip of fear only now abating. I watched her observe me, trying to decipher the cluster of passing emotions that danced in her eyes. "Did I frighten you?" She then asked, thumb stroking along my cheek.

I opened my mouth to speak, only then realising I didn't know what to say. Everything that had happened during the night came flooding back to me, and the recollection of it all left me in complete awe. Instead, I closed my mouth again, raising my own hand to caress her face in return, allowing my fingertips to dance down her skin. Her smile widened at my touch, her lips pulled into an expression of contentment. "You look happy," I noted instead.

"Mhm," she hummed, closing her eyes as her hand took a hold of mine, wrapping her fingers around the limb as she held it to her face, her legs rubbing along my own beneath the blankets, "I am."

I felt the corners of my lips twitch into an answering smile, the expression creeping up on me as much as the fluttering warmth that flooded my chest. I took advantage of her unguarded attitude by allowing myself to admire her peaceful countenance; relishing the sight of her rich, dark lashes which contrasted against her seemingly luminous skin, noting how her brow was free of its usual tense pucker and how her lips seemed curved into a perpetual smile. Her hand rested on top of mine, dainty fingers weaving through my own, and for some reason my heart stuttered at how small and delicate she appeared beneath my caress — she didn't flinch away from my touch or feel the need to carefully scrutinise my every movement. Instead, she trusted me, unquestioningly.

She slowly opened her eyes again, those amber depths sweeping over me, pulling me straight back under. Her hand lifted mine off her, holding it between us instead, fingers pushing mine apart as her gaze trailed the digits. "So what's the story behind these?" My eyes followed hers as her fingers rubbed along the rings on mine, polishing the shiny metal.

It was an exchange of trust, I understood, a renunciation of ego. She had given me all she had to offer; her mind, body and heart. "They were part of the ritual…" I turned my hand in hers, grasping her curious fingers, trapping them between my own. "One to bind the mortal body, and one to bind the immortal soul."

"So… like a marriage to yourself?" Her inquisitive gaze flicked up to meet mine eagerly.

"That's one way to look at it," I found myself smiling wistfully, gaze taking in the way hers had returned to trailing along my hand, her eyes glittering with unspoken intrigue. An idea struck me, and I moved to carefully slide the ring off my little-finger. I reached out for her left hand, holding it between us as I pushed the item down her ring-finger, next to where she'd worn her signet ring. It was a little big for her, its thick band still leaving enough of a gap to move around. "You'll have to get it adjusted."

Her eyes darted between me and the slightly too-large ring on her finger, a look of genuine surprise on her face — before she composed herself enough to send me another one of her teasing smirks, "aren't engagement rings supposed to go on the right hand?"

I felt the corners of my own mouth twitch at her jest, a smug smile soon taking over as I wrapped her hand back in mine, holding it to my chest. "In my culture," my thumb stroked along the bumps of her knuckles, "we kept them on the left, where they are closest to the heart." I watched as her cheeks flushed, her eyes turning round beneath my gaze, staring at me in stunned silence. "Of course," I added in a soft voice, "you're free to wear it however you so please."

* * *

"You look radiant as always, Violet dear," Nadia smiled at Emily from her place behind the desk, a large novel clutched to her chest that I assumed she'd been reading.

"Thank you, Nadia, as do you," Emily beamed in return, and I didn't miss the slight skip in her step as she passed the woman, her dark hair bouncing down her shoulders.

I followed behind, flanked by a silent Callista, unable to stop myself from carefully eyeing the suspicious old inn-keeper, even though her weathered features betrayed nothing of her thoughts. She pursed her thin lips as she turned her unsettling gaze to me, and it felt as if she was looking through me again, her observant stare leaving an itch all over my skin. I reminded myself to keep my cool, uncertain how I was supposed to greet the old woman and quickly averting my gaze instead.

"That's quite the honour you've awarded her, young man," she spoke then, her voice sending chills down my back as I reached the end of the stairs.

I felt my skin heat as the words pelted down on me, their sound soon overpowered by my own violent pulse which had started to throb in my ears as everyone's eyes suddenly turned to me. I paused as I raised my hands in defence, my face burning, "I- no-"

"The ring," Nadia clarified with an amused chuckle, pointing a finger at Emily's hand, her sharpness filling me with further unease, "although I'm sure you honour her in many other ways, too."

I didn't like the suggestiveness of her tone or the pleased smile on her lips. Callista's questioning stare burned into my back, yet she didn't say anything as she patiently waited for me to continue walking. Emily rescued me by taking my hand in hers, dragging me behind her as she sent Nadia a smile over her shoulder, "royally so."

* * *

"Are you even trying? I mean, honestly?"

"It looks alright from where I'm sitting."

I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair as I regarded the former Empress with a sceptical look. "Are you serious? You're joking, right? Because it looks like ass." I didn't miss the strange looks we received from some of the surrounding customers, all apparently wanting to eat their breakfast in stifling silence.

"One, you're being way too critical," She counted off her fingers, elbows leaning on the table again, another offence to her expensive teachings, "and two, 'ass'? Really? Do you even know what an ass looks like?"

"Violet," Callista hissed.

"Though your deliberate disregard of an obvious hyperbole doesn't surprise me, It certainly shouldn't come as a surprise to _you_ that I do, in fact, know what an actual ass looks like," I raised an amused eyebrow at the fussy girl across from me. "Honestly, at this point I'm inclined to sympathise with Nora on the subject of you being a dreadful student with the attention span of a literal rock."

She started on a response, only to pause, lips parted and brow furrowed, until she quickly collected herself, directing a challenging smirk my way. "A _sexy_ rock, though," she raised her eyebrows suggestively, "I bet I could make you rock-ha-"

"Violet!"

I couldn't contain my amused snicker at her words, uncrossing my arms as I leaned forward, mimicking her posture as I rested my elbows onto the table. I knew what she was trying to do, and I certainly wasn't about to award her an easy victory. "Careful now, last time I was that hard I lasted many, many centuries," I purred, watching her face flush at my unexpected retaliation.

"Please — just, teach her and save the blatant innuendo for when I'm done eating," Callista pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as her brows pulled together in an exasperated frown, "or better yet, when I'm not around to hear it." She moved to rub her face with her hands, massaging her temples in an attempt to relieve some of her built up annoyance. "Honestly, could we have one normal breakfast — for once?"

"My apologies, Nora," Emily sent her an overly sweet smile, "I promise we'll put in more of an effort to remain professional."

"I certainly believe that would be for the best," Callista's voice was tense, her back and shoulders a fraction too straight, "especially once your father arrives."

Emily mirrored her straightness, raising her chin at the woman as she peered down her nose in defiance. "My father's presence should not be of any influence regarding our interactions — I'm no longer a child who needs his saving or scorn."

"Although I'm sure that is true, and you know I do wish you nothing but the best," Callista hesitated, gaze briefly darting my way, "but I cannot guarantee your father will feel the same way. I think it goes without saying that there is something between the two of you that goes beyond… friendship."

"As I've entrusted you," Emily agreed sharply, and I found myself suddenly feeling left out, Emily's words hinting at a conversation _I_ certainly hadn't been present for.

"All I'm saying is, you have to consider the consequ-"

"We'll cross those bridges when we get to them," I interjected, the subject leaving me both unnerved and uncomfortable, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest once more. "Can you try again? Start with the 'Э'."

Emily glanced my way, a perturbed frown on her face, before looking down to the paper in front of her, its surface already filled with numerous attempts at copying the ancient alphabet I'd written down for her. "This is going to take years to learn," she sighed, slumping in her chair, "why don't you just translate everything for me?"

"Because, one, you're being way too pessimistic — which is ironic coming from me — and two, this was your idea to begin with."

* * *

"I understand it's something you'd rather not think about, not right now at least, but tell me, have you at least considered what you plan on telling her father?" Callista walked next to me, the streets close to abandoned now the afternoon had rolled around. We'd left the small cafe only a few moments prior, after I'd spent the entire morning trying to tutor Emily.

"Have _you_?" I bounced the question back to her, turning my head to look her in the eye. Emily had been trailing behind us, constantly stopping to peer at the many boutiques we passed, admiring the carefully constructed displays that lay behind panels of decorated glass.

"I'm not one to meddle in others' affairs, as you must have surely noticed." Callista made a point to look me in the eye, obviously referencing her lack of real scorn regarding Emily and I.

"That doesn't answer the question," I met her gaze head on, unbudging beneath her stare.

She sighed, directing a pensive frown towards the streets ahead. "I'm not too fond of you-"

"As you've made clear," I spoke through gritted teeth.

"-and I wouldn't hesitate to say I think any sort of union between the two of you would be doomed from the start," she finished, rubbing her hands together to ward off some of the cold, and perhaps also the unpleasant sensation left behind by her statement.

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling the weight I'd felt earlier shift back into place. "I find that hard to argue with."

She returned her gaze to me, her eyes probing me for answers. "Tell me, what business does an immortal god have with some dethroned Empress?"

I frowned sourly, my hands balling to fists within the pockets of my coat. "I wouldn't know, as I am neither."

"Who are you then?" She snapped. "Because it seems to me you have the 'human' act down pretty well."

Her words had wrapped around my heart, painfully constricting the faltering organ, but I refused to show it. "What makes you think I'm putting on an act?"

Callista stopped walking, regarding me with a strange and unreadable look, a frown creasing her brow. I stopped as well, turning towards her, meeting her gaze without hesitation. She didn't move to speak, not yet, as her eyes continued to stare at me.

"What makes one 'human'?" I asked then, the words turning to clouds of vapour between us. "Do I not have eyes to see, ears to hear, a heart to feel?" I tipped my head in question, ignoring Emily who I could see gazing through another window.

"A soul," Callista spoke in clipped tones, eyes still burning into mine.

I shrugged, glancing down at my boots before meeting her gaze again, "if a soul, by its definition, is the incorporeal fiber of a living being, then doesn't the mere act of existing grant me one such thing?"

Her frown deepened as she raised her chin at me, "it is black magic that corrupts the soul, as it has no righteous purpose within a human heart."

I couldn't contain the bitter snicker at her words, "it's a good thing, then, that all of us are equally corrupted, seeing as I marked both her and her father." Callista didn't seem all too surprised by the admission, and I reckoned Emily most likely already let something slip. I licked my lips, glancing Emily's way before narrowing my eyes at Callista, "what is it you said to her?"

"That is between the two of us, but if you must know; I told her she's an idiot."

"That certainly didn't do anything to deter her."

"I suppose." There was something off about the way she said the words, but I couldn't quite manage to put my finger on it — still, I did store the minor detail away for later. "But if even you couldn't change her mind, then I doubt I stood a chance at all." Her eyes darted to something behind me, but before I could consider following her gaze I was startled by a horrifying chill that ran down my back, clumps of ice biting into my sensitive skin. I gasped, my hands shooting to the back of my coat, trying to find the source of the sudden cold as I felt my spine give way to the appalling sensations. I paused at the sudden sound of laughter, its bubbling melody freezing me more than the ice had. Slowly turning my head, I was met by a mischievous looking Emily, bits of snow still clinging to her raised hands.

"You're not just going to take that... are you?" She taunted, her eyes daring me to enact revenge.

I simply gaped at her, trying to process the fact that she had just dumped handfuls of snow down my clothes and felt inexplicably happy about it. She waited for me to respond, and when it seemed I wasn't going to she bent down to pick up more snow. My reaction was instant as my body sprung back to life, my hands reaching to grab hers, only to fail as she easily evaded my half-assed attempt. I was about to tell her to stop when another handful of snow was dumped into my face, the cold burning my cheeks.

"Come on now, you're faster than that," she teased as she backed away, already gathering more of the icy substance into her hands. I rubbed at my face as I tried to wipe away the already melting powder, droplets of freezing water running down my skin.

"Violet, it is improper for a lady your age to be-" Callista started, only to be interrupted by a shriek from Emily as I kicked a wave of snow towards the former Empress, white powder flying through the air. She raised her hands in an attempt to shield herself from the falling cold, and I used the distraction to gather my own heap of it, tightly pressing the substance into a large ball before hurling it her way. The act caused my skin to heat and my pulse to race, adrenaline edging me on to keep on going, to bury the defiant girl in mountains upon mountains of frost — she was laughing as she too wiped at her face, clearing away clumps of ice. I had already started on gathering more ammunition when I was thrown to the ground, straddled by a grinning Emily, her hands pinning mine above my head. I panted beneath her, my entire body engulfed in snow, its cold soaking through my thick coat.

"Admit I'm by far superior and beg me for mercy," she demanded, a sly grin spreading from ear to ear.

I continued to stare up at her, my chest dancing as her weight pressed down on my stomach. Her grip was incredibly firm, and I was aware there'd be no way for me to escape, my untrained abilities no match for her experienced skills. Still, I felt defiance spark within me, an amused smirk pulling at my lips. "Are you trying to be funny, or do you just happen to be this preposterous because you don't know any better?"

She feigned indignation at my words, her lips parting in a mocking gasp, "well I've never!" There was no time for me to react as she released one of my arms, quickly using her free hand to bury my face in snow. I struggled against her grip, trying to ward off the piling heap of cold as she continued to hold me down, her legs trapping mine cleverly. I twisted my body beneath her, my freed arm attempting to pull hers from mine after wiping the snow away, my legs struggling to get out from under her. "Admit I'm by far superior and beg me for mercy, you low-life scoundrel," she repeated between her own fits of laughter.

I felt an amused chuckle escape me at the words as I stared up at her, raising an eyebrow at her frivolous demands. "Far superior in what way, exactly?"

"Every way," she snapped, a smug smile on her lips.

"Violet, please, let the man go," Callista sighed from a distance.

"Not until he does as I say!" Emily giggled, clearly enjoying her own childish antics.

"You're being ridiculous," I chuckled, feeling the snow start to melt beneath my warmth.

"Ridiculously superior," she quipped. "Now admit it and I'll let you go."

I had ceased my attempts to break free, dropping my hand somewhere above my head as my mind worked on an alternative plan. She hadn't attempted to recapture my arm and I made sure to move the limb as surreptitiously as possible, my fingers slowly digging themselves into the blanket of white powder above me. "It just so happens to be humanity's habitual hubris that has led many a ruler and peasant alike to their own undoing," I warned.

"Save the monologuing for some other unfortunate mortal," she chaffed, pushing down on my legs for emphasis.

"As you wish," I conceded, feeling a sly smile twist my lips, causing Emily's brow to pucker in suspicion. I moved as quickly as I was capable, catapulting a handful of snow towards her face, causing her to loosen her grip on me as she was left spluttering in response. I used the distraction to lift her off of me, leaving her grappling in the cold as I jumped to my feet, making sure to stay a safe distance away from her. Droplets of water ran down my face, my neck, my back, leaving a chill in their wake. I panted, tufts of smoke exiting my lungs, dancing through the air around me, a victorious grin on my face as I watched Emily come struggling from the heap I'd left her in, wiping at the ice on her flushed skin. She raised herself to her knees, fingers tucking strands of wet hair behind her ears, before her gaze found mine, her lips twitching strangely as she regarded me with a look of surprise. I felt my pulse rush through my veins, the cold air burning my lungs, the ice still stinging my hands — and she had started laughing from her place on the ground, snow sticking to every inch of her, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Fine," she admitted, grinning up at me, the look in her eyes causing my heart to stutter, "you win."

* * *

"Oh my, has it been snowing?" Nadia questioned as we entered her inn, both Emily and I soaked and shivering.

"No," Callista's voice was drenched in disapproval as she closed the door behind us, "Violet thought it a good idea to have a snow-fight — never mind she's 25."

I caught the self-satisfied look Emily shot me and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from matching her expression of amusement.

Nadia chuckled, "one can never be too old for snow-fights, or any fun for that matter." She turned to us, warm smile still in place, "I suppose the both of you must be cold, allow me to take your coats, I'll have them dry and warm again in no time." She approached from behind her desk, and it was the first time I noticed her heavy limp. Emily had already moved to take off hers, but I hesitated, warily eyeing the nearing elder. "Don't worry, I'll return it to you," she spoke to me, "go get warm by the fire, it'll do the both of you good."

Emily handed over a neatly folded coat, uttering a grateful 'thank you' to the lady before glancing my way to check on me, sending me a look that urged me to cooperate. I gave in, pulling the wet fabric from my shivering shoulders, watching Nadia as she waited patiently, smile still on her face — causing me to question how she could continue to smile like that; didn't her old face get tired after so many decades of obvious pretence?

"Thank you," she spoke as I handed her my coat, "go on, enjoy the fire, I'll put on some tea and you'll be warm again before you know it."

"Thank you so much, Nadia," Emily's hand wrapped around my arm, "some tea would be lovely!" She pulled, swiftly directing me towards the fireplace, pushing me down onto the sofa before sitting down herself.

"Would you care to enjoy some tea as well, Nora?" Nadia turned to Callista, who still stood at the entrance.

"No, thank you kindly," I could hear the polite smile in her voice, "I think I'm going to head out again, pick up some errands I forgot about."

"Alright," Nadia replied, "perhaps when you return?"

"That would be lovely, indeed."

I wondered what kind of errands Callista could be talking about, but soon found myself distracted as Emily shifted against me. The sofa was surprisingly comfortable, its thick cushions dipping pleasantly beneath our weight. The fire had an immediate effect, the soothing crackle of flames consuming wood an almost nostalgic sound. Emily had cleverly manoeuvred her legs across my lap, her shoes kicked to the floor, her arms wrapped around my torso as she rested her head against my shoulder. I was reminded of our first mortal moments together, of old chairs, crackling fires and carefully stitched up wounds.

"You remember the old man; the one with the estranged children?" The pleasant heat that came rippling from the hearth warmed the both of us, soon bringing an end to our shivers.

"What old man are you talking about?" Emily sent me a look of confusion, but I didn't turn my gaze away from the dancing fire, thoughtlessly observing the way it continued to move.

"When he was younger, he lost his heart to a girl — vowed she'd be the mother of his sons," I licked my lips, eyes staring into the flames, the smell of smoke and ashes prickling my nose, "Kathryn was her name, a real traditional beauty, hair like threads of gold." I could still picture the both of them, their voices, their dreams, their ghosts. "She rejected him the first time, the second time as well. Of course, as the saying goes, the third time's nearly always the charm, or in most cases it just so happens to be. They were wed soon after, their first child a healthy daughter, their second as well. The man held on to his hope of a son, and sure enough, on the third try they succeeded," I paused, a frown pulling at my brow as I vividly recalled the events still. "But it was their third child that proved to be too much for his dear Kathryn, and she lost her life during labour, taking their only son with her." I had allowed Emily to pull my arm around her shoulders, my fingers now absentmindedly caressing her through her sleeve. "The man was unable to handle the loss of his love, his remaining children soon neglected as he turned to strong liquor, all to try and forget — but she was unforgettable, as she had woven her golden thread all around him, all around her daughters who smiled and laughed like her.

"He would grow increasingly frustrated the older they became, more and more they would resemble what he'd lost. He'd lash out in anger at their smiles, scream at their laughter — until his daughters grew scared and unfamiliar. During one particular night, the man found himself especially drunk, and when he discovered one of his daughters with a boy she claimed she had grown to love... he lost it. It wasn't until he felt the blade between his ribs that he started to question himself, wonder what had happened to him — to them."

"That's awful," Emily tightened her grip around my stomach, causing my heart to flutter at the comfortable familiarity with which she acted.

I felt a sigh escape me as I closed my eyes, the warmth of the fire melting away the stiffness of my limbs, turning them to hot liquid instead. "Just one of many."

"That's a rather cynical way of looking at it," I could hear the frown in her voice as she pressed her cheek against my shoulder.

"I find cynicism tends to remain closest to the truth."

"Well how about this story then, it's about an Empress," she started, smirking up at me expectantly.

"Hm," I hummed, opening my eyes to send her a curious look, "this should be interesting then."

She awarded me a self-satisfied nod before continuing, my right hand wrapping around one of her legs. "This Empress is loved by many," she paused, " _many_ people."

I jokingly rolled my eyes at her exaggeration, "that's a rather inventive way of looking at it."

She shoved my shoulder in response, earning herself an amused grin. "Then, as fate would have it, she meets this unbelievably sexy 15 year old boy."

I snorted at her words, "watch out there, I hear such sentiments are frowned upon in most cultures-"

"I see I'm interrupting something rather entertaining?" Nadia came shuffling towards us, carrying a tray of steaming tea in her hands, some of the hot liquid spilling from the cups.

"Oh, no, it's alright," Emily smiled, watching as the elder placed three cups onto the coffee table in front of us, the former Empress's eyes briefly clouding over as a thought seemed to strike her, "would you mind sharing with us how you came to know your late-husband?"

"I thought _you_ were telling a story?" I frowned, secretly disappointed she would probably never finish what she started.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on the conversation..." Nadia hesitated, slowly allowing herself to sink into one of the smaller chairs that flanked the couch.

"Nonsense," Emily waved a hand, "my story wasn't all that interesting — just another man with a god-complex," she shrugged at me, the fire's reflection dancing within her coy gaze.

I narrowed my eyes at her, wary of her teasing.

"Speaking of," Nadia smiled wistfully, "I suppose my Peter was much like that."

I turned my narrowed gaze towards the elder, cautiously following her every movement. It irked me how Emily seemed so taken in by the innkeeper, her strange stare still managing to send shivers down my back in spite of the crackling fire.

"I was born here, in Samara," she continued, "never set a foot out of town. Sailors would come and go, all of them loved it here — for obvious reasons, I'm sure you're aware," she chuckled.

"I'm not," Emily admitted, glancing between the both of us.

"Prostitutes," I clarified below my breath.

"I believe I was 16 when he came into town, a foreign sailor, all talk of fascinating places around the Isles." Nadia took her tea, blowing at the steaming brew, her wrinkled hands warmed by the mug. "I worked here, at my parents' inn, and he stayed the week with his fellow crew. He thought me some simple girl, just another local. I remember it was around this time of the year, the festival drawing in all of Samara. The sailors too, of course, since there was plenty liquor to pass around. They would drink their bellies full of courage, before they went on their usual spree of — and you'll have to excuse my language — whoring," she winked, earning a giggle from Emily. "I bumped into him at the festival one night, real drunken mess, didn't think he'd need help getting back even though his mates had already left him. I didn't listen to his talk, instead I helped him stumble home. He complained the entire way, told of his esteemed parents back home in Morley, of their fine tastes in art and how a child like me would never understand such delicacies."

Emily bent forward to take her drink, glancing my way before offering me the remaining mug. I took it, watching the liquid swirl within its container, silently wondering whether drinking it could be considered safe or not.

"By the time we reached our street, he'd been reduced to a sobbing mess, admittedly home-sick and drunk out of his mind," she shook her head. "Next morning he was too embarrassed to even look me in the eye. They left a few nights after that, didn't see him for years. I got on with my life, didn't really think of him much, until he returned when I was 24. By then I had taken over the inn, but I remained unmarried — an unusual thing for women my age. He didn't recognise me at first, but I knew it was him right away. He was as pompous as ever, blond curls, golden eyes, and an attitude that let you know he was far too aware of his looks. This time around, instead of avoiding me, he badgered me as if he had something to prove. I suppose he wanted to rectify his embarrassing breakdown all those years ago, still not over his moment of weakness."

"Typical men," Emily rolled her eyes, and I knew she rolled them out of experience, her role as Empress exposing her to various such men looking to weave their way into her world of power — even I found myself able to relate.

"Well I wasn't too impressed, and he later admitted that's what made him try all the harder. He would ask me out every night, even though I rejected him every time — I wasn't interested in a sailor; it was common knowledge they tended to have a sweetheart at every port. The festival came around again… and of course, he got himself drunk." Her face had started to light up as she spoke, the corners of her lips twitching at the memory, "I bumped into him, and he had dragged me towards the bonfire, insisting I go out with him or else he'd throw himself into its flames. I told him 'no'... and then the fool actually did it," she chuckled beneath her breath. "Burned his hair right off, and I decided then and there that I'd marry him if he'd ever ask."

"So how did you get the limp?"

"Matvey!" Emily gasped, turning her head towards me as she immediately continued in a hiss, "you can't just ask people such questions."

"You asked her about her dead husband, I don't see how one is more appropriate than the other," I scowled.

We were interrupted by Nadia's laughter, her tea shaking in her hands. "That's quite alright," she smiled, "tell me, Violet, if you don't mind me asking, what made you decide you wanted to marry him?"

I sucked in my breath at the question, surprised by the sudden return to the topic, my eyes darting down to Emily's face. She seemed as taken aback as I, her lips parted as she considered the inquiry, her gaze shooting up to meet mine briefly.

"I can't name just a single thing," she shook her head, smiling for a moment before it faltered, her brow furrowing as her thoughtful eyes were drawn to the fire, "I suppose, if I had to choose," she returned her gaze to me, flecks of gold dancing in those warm depths, "it'd be that he makes me feel safe."

I stared at her, awed, momentarily forgetting about my snow-soaked clothes, the burning tea in my hands, Nadia's gaze that observed the both of us. She meant the words, and I felt them resonate within me, their meaning wrapping my heart in honey. I — The Outsider, Matvey, whomever I was — had made her feel contrary to whatever I'd previously believed or even tried to make her believe.

"-you, Matvey?"

I blinked, shaking my head, gaze shooting between the two women, "what?"

"I asked what about you?" Nadia grinned, those unsettling eyes glued to my face.

"Oh," I hesitated, turning to an expectant looking Emily, her legs still draped across my lap, warming my skin through our clothes, "I don't think my opinions are of any real interest."

"Nonsense!"

"For once I'm _actually_ interested," Emily teased, bringing a mirthful smile to my lips before I rolled my eyes at her, my fingers fumbling with the fabric of her pants in an awkward manner I wasn't too proud of.

"Fine," I submitted, looking down at my hand, my eyes slowly tracing the hints of veins beneath my skin. "I think..." I started, already feeling my face start to burn, "it's because..." I felt their stares on me, my stuttering heart leaving me slightly dizzy. There were a million reasons why I admired her, why I thought she was fascinating; how was I supposed to pick a single one? I closed my eyes, trying to forget the burn of their gazes, instead focusing on my own thoughts. "She — or you — just..." This was hard. This was horrifying. I felt the strong urge to make myself disappear, though I was obviously trapped, so I just pretended the both of them weren't there, fighting to forget about their stares. It helped, to some degree, but my mind was hard to fool. "You're..." I furrowed my brow, my thoughts flooded by scenes of transience, by fragments too fragile to firmly grasp — all deeply ingrained with a foreign sense of somehow belonging, of timid yet eager accession. My eyes fluttered open to look at her, clarity overcoming me, a genuine smile on my lips. "You're my home."

* * *

She'd practically dragged me up the stairs as soon as she'd finished her tea — and I had to admit; the tea had tasted quite good, which meant I actually felt miffed when she hadn't allowed me to finish mine. Of course, those feelings were soon forgotten, especially once she'd revealed her intentions, her lips capturing mine the instant she'd closed the door behind us, her hands quick to relieve my skin of any and all clothing. I'd tried my best to keep up with her, my own butterfingered digits not quite as adapt at the more refined of movements — and I wasn't too proud of admitting my patience had ran thin to the point of ruining what had been a lovely outfit on her part. She had neither seemed to mind nor care as she herself had been responsible for the partial destruction of the room's arrangements, forcibly pushing me against both walls and cabinets. I'd soon hoisted her up, her legs eagerly locking around my hips, and — after avoiding stepping on what I guessed to be several broken picture frames — dropped her onto the bed.

She'd been rough, aggressive and fiercely desperate; her teeth biting down in greedy hunger, nails writing down marks of her own in trails of red. I'd eagerly met her fervour, until our dampened skin hummed with the raw burn of sheer corporeal friction. She'd muffled her cry against my shoulder, her body jerking beneath mine as she'd clung to me. I'd covered her in feverish kisses, trailing from the nape of her neck up to her jaw, tasting the saline remainder of her frenzy, stifling my own rumbling groan against her swollen lips. We'd remained curled up into each other as we waited for our heaving chests and racing hearts to calm, my own limbs left heavy and buzzing with rapture. She'd wrapped herself up in my arms, peppering my skin in languid kisses, breath fanning over me and sending shivers down my back. My head hadn't been able to catch up yet, my mind numbed and afloat as I still felt the aftermath of our mutual high.

Over an hour might have passed before she so much attempted to move again, and I was certain that if I myself had tried any earlier, I wouldn't have been able to walk even if I wanted to, my legs molten to a sensory liquid. She'd pressed a kiss to my temple before pushing herself off the bed, her feet carefully dancing around any fallen objects. I recognised the sounds of creaking faucets and running water after she'd darted off into the bathroom, and it wasn't long until she returned to coax me into following her. I obeyed, albeit a bit more clumsily than I liked, my vision blurred by the creeping pull of sleep. I had no idea how she'd managed to do it so fast — or I just hadn't been as awake as I'd thought — but she'd littered the room with flickering candles, their warm glow bouncing off the shiny tiles. It was actually quite romantic, even if I was loathe to admit such things, the steaming water from the bathtub swirling to a soft mist that dampened the air.

She hadn't covered or turned the mirror, its shining surface reflecting our naked bodies, confronting me with the full sight of us together. Contrary to what I had expected, I didn't look as alien next to her as I would have thought. Instead the both of us appeared surprisingly normal — which was an odd thought for me to have anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if I'd been watching hordes of naked people get together throughout the centuries — they just had a habit of popping up wherever.

"I checked the water, it should be fine," Emily spoke suddenly, shaking me from my thoughts, drawing in my attention. "Go ahead," she gestured for me to get in, apparently wanting me to go first. I obeyed — again, a habit I shouldn't get too familiar with — carefully climbing into the tub, my limbs slowly sinking beneath the glittering water. She hadn't been lying when she said it should be fine, its temperature a kind of hot that soaked into my muscles right away, its warmth cocooning me in comfort. She followed, gaze carefully studying me as she moved, trying to register my every passing thought, or so it seemed. She was halfway submerged when she slowly waded towards me, eyes still intently focused on mine, their outline accentuated by the many candles, her heavy lashes catching glimmers of light. I watched her as I held my breath, tiny waves lapping against my pale chest. There was something oddly... welcoming, about being in the water, its liquid slosh like an ancient lullaby to my ears. She had worked her way between my legs, slowly turning herself around until her back rested against my chest, her soft hair running down my right shoulder. I instinctively wrapped my arms around her, holding her to me as I rested my cheek to her temple, feeling my heart dance against her back.

"I must have been a good fiancé to earn all this," I mumbled against her skin, feeling every breath she took, every sound she made, my eyes closing on their own accord.

"Mhm," she hummed, her fingers wrapping around my arms, pushing them tighter around her, "don't spoil it, though."

"Have I ever spoiled anything for anyone?" I breathed in the smell of her, feeling my pulse slow and my body grow heavy. There was a strange ringing in my ears, like a distant lullaby, its soothing melody compelling me to relax.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" She snorted.

I frowned, my right hand tracing circles across the soft skin of her shoulder. "Now who's spoiling it?"

"You did rip up my clothes," she contended sourly.

It was my turn to snort this time, my chest bumping against her back. "They were in my way."

She released a throaty laugh in response, the water rippling around us, its steam sticking to our skin and covering us in a sheen of warmth.

"This is…" I started, feeling my breath hitch, my brow puckering as I thoughtfully rolled the word around in my mouth before releasing it, "nice."

She sighed against me, allowing herself to sink slightly deeper, "I think I could stay like this forever."

I raised my eyebrows at the words, feeling my heart stutter. "Forever is a long time."

"Blesseth me with more of thy wisdom."

I chuckled against her temple, "I'm just saying, I've seen what happens to the skin after only a few days."

She turned around to look at me, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into an offended frown. "That's disgusting."

I felt my lips twist into a lopsided smile as I briefly raised my eyebrows at her, my arms loosening their hold, hands wrapping around her before I turned her to face me fully. The movements were followed by the splashing of water, some of it sent falling to the floor, soaking into the wooden panels. Her stomach was soon pressed against my own, her hands spread across my chest to keep her from sliding down. I pulled her higher, until her lips hovered inches from mine, my eyes mesmerised by her as I paused to watch, to breathe, to feel… She gasped when I pulled us under, sending even more water over the tub's edge. I kissed her, the warmth of her washed away by our private ocean, our lips moulding together in a world free from humanity. I hadn't told her so, but I did agree; I would wish for nothing more than for this to last forever.

My lungs had no more need for air as I breathed her, the ages flowing around us and joining together in an attempt to suspend this moment from ending. The water caressed the both of us, its swirling waves stroking through our hair, tickling our skin. Her hands had risen to wrap around my shoulders, her thumbs trailing along the sides of my neck. It took me a while to notice the sudden brightness that had subtly permeated through my closed lids, provoking me to open them. My gaze met hers as our lips parted, confusion flickering within her widened eyes. The candlelight glimmered throughout our airless sanctuary, its light illuminating the rolling waters. That wasn't the odd part, however, as my eyes registered the bright glow of white that came from below.

I hesitantly turned my head to follow it, my gaze moving along her skin as I lifted my arm to reveal the source of the light. There, along the side of her ribcage, glowed three bright symbols: 'ΣM¹'. I felt my eyes widen at the sight, blinking several times to see if they were really there — until her hands pulled me back up, the waters sent sloshing around us. I glanced down at our submerged bodies, noticing a similar glow shining from my skin, my ribcage marked by 'Шт²'.

"What is this?" Emily asked, a panicked tremor in her voice. "What's happening?"

I continued to stare down at the glowing symbols, a dreadful shiver running down my back. "These are whale markers."

"I didn't want to breathe," Emily continued, shaking her head. "Why didn't I need to breathe?"

"I- I don't know." I blinked, looking up at her, my hands rising to cup her cheeks, turning her face around to see if anything else was different. "I- are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No- I just…" She paused, frowning down at my chest, briefly biting her lip. "I feel fine."

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek as I tried to think, ravaging my mind for a possible explanation.

* * *

"Is this it?"

I looked over to her as she held up another piece of yellowed paper, my eyes scanning its written contents. "No," I shook my head, "I'm looking for anything containing the word 'киты'."

Emily let out a weary sigh, dropping the piece of paper next to her, the ground we were sitting on littered by a dozen more, "this language is so hard to follow."

"In my time every isle had their own speech, you're lucky there's only one left."

We hadn't noticed the knocking on our door until it was too late, a shocked Callista entering what had to appear as a scene of utter destruction. "What happened here?" She questioned as her gaze shot across our floor, its surface littered with broken items.

My own gaze shot over to Emily, her face visibly flushing as her eyes widened at the unexpected entry of her former teacher. "Do you really think you want that question answered?" I asked, returning my attention to Callista before raising a sceptical eyebrow.

"Why does it smell like fire in here?" She ignored my comment as if she hadn't heard it, sidestepping the mess while she headed for the source of the scent, a gasp escaping her as her eyes took in the state of the bathroom. "Have you been practicing black magic in here?" She hissed, sharply turning back to us, an upset scowl on her face.

I watched Emily's look of shock turn to one of horror as her tutor found what remained of her romantic gesture. "No," I started, noticing how Emily's eyes immediately shot to my face in dread at my amused tone, "we didn't know how to open the windows, so we had to light the candles to mask the obstinate smell of se-"

"Matvey!" I was thrown to the floor by a distressed Emily, her hands shooting up to cover my mouth and silence me. I couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled from my chest, its sound muffled by her palm. She frowned down at me, her cheeks still flushed a bright red.

"You know what, never mind I asked, I came here for something else entirely," Callista sighed, fingers rubbing her temples as she frowned off into the distance, shaking her head before heading towards a small table at the other end of the room, pointedly ignoring the ripped pieces of Emily's clothing and picking out a chair for herself instead. "I asked around town," she started as she sat herself down, neatly placing her hands in her lap. "Did you know the Abbey hasn't settled over here?"

"Huh?" Emily sat up, her hand slowly sliding off my face. "That's convenient."

I took the opportunity to clarify, propping myself up to speak, "they had no influence here, I never appeared to the people of Samara so they felt they had nothing to fear."

Callista nodded thoughtfully, her eyes soon drawn to the flurry of papers that lay scattered around us. "So, did you find anything in those?"

"Not yet."

It was Emily's turn to speak up, her hands nervously wringing the edge of her blouse, "we did find something else..." she paused, and Callista sent her an inquiring look, her eyes scanning her curiously. Emily moved to lift her blouse, revealing the side of her ribs... but there was nothing there. "It's gone." She looked to me in surprise, her eyes darting to my side as if urging me to check as well. I hesitated before I hooked my fingers beneath the fabric of my shirt, lifting it to expose my side, my pale skin equally unmarred. "How?" Asked Emily, a frown creasing her skin.

"What was I supposed to see?" Callista tipped her head, gaze darting between the two of us.

"Maybe it only shows in the water?" Emily suggested thoughtfully, eyes clouded over as her mind mulled the possibilities.

"There were markings," I replied, hands rubbing my face wearily. Emily stood without saying anything, bare feet patting over to the bathroom. "What are you-" I watched her disappear around the corner, followed by the sound of running water.

"Emily?" Callista called after her, shifting in her chair as she seemed as uncertain as I.

Emily didn't reply, and I moved to lift myself off the ground, curiously trailing after her. I heard Callista's following footsteps, but paid no mind to her as I watched Emily remove her blouse and pants while she waited for the tub to fill again.

"Lady Emily, you should not expose yourself in such an indecent manner!" Callista gasped as she watched the girl strip down to her underwear.

Emily waved her off as she observed the water intently, turning the faucet again once there was enough to submerge herself if she truly wanted to. I watched her step into the glimmering liquid, its ripples illuminated by the dying candles that surrounded us. She sat herself down, staring at her side, waiting for her skin to change. It didn't, causing her frown to deepen before she looked up at me. "Get in," she ordered in a way only someone raised like an Empress would.

"Emily-"

" _Get in, Matvey,_ " she insisted.

I narrowed my eyes, warily glancing at Callista before submitting, removing my own shirt and pants before joining her. The water hadn't been heated properly, its cold soaking into my skin as I sat down across from her, a chagrined look on my face. She ignored me as she continued to stare at her skin, yet it remained unchanged.

"Kiss me," she ordered then, her face composed in a mask of dead-seriousness.

"No way," I refused, sending her an annoyed scowl.

"Lady Emily-"

" _Kiss me_ ," she ordered again, mirroring my angry expression as she stared me down.

I felt my face heat as I glanced towards an irate looking Callista, a feeling of discomfort twisting my stomach at her presence — but I complied, slowly moving closer, the water sloshing around in response. My hands slid along the sides of the tub as I neared her, her features still perfectly composed while she patiently waited for me. I screwed my eyes shut before bringing my face to hers, briefly pecking her lips as if the contact might scald me. I opened my eyes again to see her stare down at her side, her skin still free from any markings.

"Mean it," she returned her gaze to me, a determined look in her eyes.

"Lady Emily, that is quite enough," Callista protested, about to turn on her heel when I sourly closed my eyes again, taking a deep breath as I attempted to forget about the woman watching us. I slowly leaned forward, gently pressing my lips to hers, feeling the water ripple as she quivered ever so slightly in response. The contact left me equally intoxicated, and I found myself unable to resist the desire to deepen the kiss, the taste of her lips igniting my veins and causing a rapturous hunger to sweep over me. I was about to lose myself in her when Callista dragged me back into reality. "What is that?" She shrieked in horror, causing my eyes to shoot back open. I moved away from Emily as I too witnessed the glowing shapes on her side, glancing down to see I was affected as well.

Emily pushed me back, creating more space for herself. "Now watch this," she spoke, jaw squared in determination as she allowed herself to sink deeper into the water, until her face was completely submerged beneath its surface. I watched in awe as she remained there, focused and still.

"What is she doing?" Callista appeared a little more curious this time, her feet carrying her closer as she watched Emily.

"Holding her breath," I mumbled, my face burning as I wrapped my arms around my legs, resting my chin against my knees awkwardly. Several minutes of uncomfortable silence passed, and I couldn't help but be worried for Emily as she remained perfectly still, a stray bubble of air escaping her lips every now and then. Callista kept on watching, a worried frown on her brow, her lips parted in silent wonder. When even more time passed I found myself unable to fight off the wave of anxiety that overtook me, and on instinct I leaned forward, placing my hand against the skin above her heart. She opened her eyes at my touch, and I was relieved by the feeling of her heart beneath my palm. Her lips pulled into an amused smile at my worry for her, and I found myself shaking my head, annoyed at her for her impulsiveness.

"How is she doing this?"

I shrugged, still closely monitoring her heartbeat, comforted by its continuously calm pace. "I'm not a natural philosopher, but I think it has to do with her blood."

"Why would you think that?" Callista turned her gaze towards me, all traces of her previous indignation gone.

I tried my best to shake off the feeling of vulnerability at my exposed form, my eyes pointedly staring at Emily. "I know whales need oxygen, like us, and I also know their blood allows them to go without breathing for extended periods of time, spanning up to over an hour."

"She's not a whale, though," Callista frowned.

"Those markings, people mark whales in a similar manner before harvesting their meat and oil — I think there might be more behind them."

"Why don't you know?"

"I'm not omniscient," I retorted, glaring up at her, "I only remember the things I hear."

Callista just hummed in response, quickly averting her gaze, turning it back to Emily.

I continued speaking, my eyes darting down to Emily as well, "we were searching the documents I found to see if they mentioned whales anywhere, but so far we found nothing. Which is strange, since whales are an important part of the Void. It's almost as if people didn't even know they existed."

Callista inhaled sharply, as if she was about to say something but changed her mind, pausing before speaking up again, "had you ever heard of whales when you- you know, I assume you were a kid at some point."

I couldn't control myself enough to not make a snide remark, bitterness sharpening my tongue. "That's a sure change from just plain assuming I'm not a real person."

She didn't reply right away, and when I looked at her I noticed she was frowning down at the floor. "Gods don't scar," she almost whispered the words, her lips barely moving as she spoke them.

I narrowed my eyes. "No, I had never heard of whales — but I also wouldn't be the right person to ask since I didn't enjoy an education."

"I see," she nodded, turning back to Emily, who still remained underwater.

Several more minutes passed before she decided to come back up, my hand falling off her chest as she straightened herself, water dripping down her face, sticking to her hair and lashes. She took a deep breath, an excited smile on her lips, her gaze darting between me and Callista. "That was… amazing," she grinned, her chest back to rising and falling as she continued to suck in the oxygen, the markings on her side fading. I frowned, unsure how to feel, worry gnawing at the back of my mind. We didn't know what any of this meant, or how it had been possible — more importantly, why had it affected her as well as me?

"How did you do it?" Asked Callista, my worried frown mirrored on her face.

Emily shrugged, turning to me, her grin still lingering, "I think it's thanks to Matvey — when he kissed me, there was this- this…" she appeared to be searching for the words, her eyes dancing as they roamed across her mind, "electricity that rippled through me, and I felt as if I would never need to breathe again." She blinked, eyebrows pulling together as she recalled it all. "It's unlike anything I've ever felt before — the sensations entirely different from when I was marked, as if it was the complete opposite."

I considered her words for a moment, a sudden idea striking me. "The whales — they've been singing to me ever since I arrived at the Tower, calling my name… They followed us across the Wrenhaven," I recalled how the waters had been filled by hundreds of whales, their large bodies making it nearly impossible to see the Wrenhaven itself. "When I followed you after you'd left for the Tower on your own, they carried me — but they had intended to take me somewhere else…" my frown deepened as I searched my mind for clues, a distinct memory standing out. "I remember falling into the water, feeling drawn to this light — it was as if it called for me, like the whales had." I looked up to meet Emily's gaze, "what if that's where they had wanted to take me? What if they helped us get here because that same light is right here, somewhere beneath the water's surface?"

"You think the whales want you to swim there?" Emily tipped her head, a pensive frown on her face.

I recalled it then, my dreams; the waves that wrote to me in foam and salt, seas of warm amber that begged for me — pools of gold like her eyes. I hadn't been equipped for either yet, unable to face the truth — not yet ready to take the dive. But all that didn't matter now, I had finally given in to what my soul had been telling me to do all this time, before I could even understand the feelings I had been experiencing. I shook my head, watching as the candlelight illuminated her amber gaze, "they want _us_ to swim there."


	18. Live

"Is this about right?" Emily asked as she eagerly held up her piece of paper.

I squinted at the scribblings she had produced, using my finger to mark the sentence I'd been reading, my father's diary spread out in front of me. "That actually looks quite decent," I smiled up at her, impressed by her fast improvement.

She beamed back at me, a self-satisfied look in her eyes, before turning to Callista with a teasing smirk. "You hear that, Nora?"

Callista simply raised an eyebrow at her, briefly removing her gaze from the book she'd been reading, regarding Emily with a look that spoke volumes of her scepticism.

"Would any of you like something else to drink?" The waitress asked, and I had carefully obscured the small booklet at her approach.

"No, thank you," Emily answered politely, to which the waitress nodded, collecting our empty glasses before turning away again.

I hadn't missed Callista's curious stares towards the item I'd hidden away, and she didn't hesitate to ask once the waitress had left. "So how come this," she used her gaze to indicate the small booklet, "looks different from all the other documents?"

I sat back in my chair, following the waitress as she walked up to another table nearby. "That's because it is."

"And why is that?" She insisted, narrowing her eyes at my curtness.

I crossed my arms before I turned my gaze towards her, taking in her insistent expression. "It's not a document, it's a diary."

She frowned, eyes briefly darting down to the yellowed pages. "And how is a diary going to help, exactly?"

"It mentions the Great Leviathan, which I think might be important."

"It's a common myth, I don't see how that might be of any significance?" She tipped her head before continuing in a careful whisper, "if I recall correctly they call you the Great Leviathan."

"It's an old title, one that precedes me," I paused, licking my lips as I recounted the words I'd read. "First, the writer mentions seeing it, or him, or whatever it is... then later he declares it dead."

"What do you think that implies?" Callista rubbed her temple as she stared at the small diary, eyes tracing words she couldn't read.

"It means that somewhere between the dates in this diary, the thing that was originally named 'the Great Leviathan' passed away from some unknown cause."

"So how come you don't know exactly what happened to the Great Leviathan?" Emily joined the conversation, drawing my attention to her.

"I wasn't there to see it." I frowned at her loss of focus. "Keep practicing," I said with a nod towards her writings.

* * *

"Neither one of you are attempting anything unless you'd prefer freezing to death."

I watched Emily's face fall as she continued to stare ahead, her eyes trailing every wave that rolled ashore. Callista was right, but even I felt tempted. It was as if the dancing waters were purposefully luring me in, their dark surface obscuring the secret world I knew waited beneath, seducing me with their mysteries. I was well aware Corvo could arrive any day now, and the smart thing to do would be to wait and see if he could tell us more; if we were lucky his trip to Karnaca would offer us some much needed information. We'd paid a visit to the library this morning, stacking up on books about the history of marine life and common diving practices — most importantly, how to not die in a freezing ocean. I was actually growing increasingly frustrated by the Abbey's absence in Samara; they usually hoarded tons of information about the occult — the kind of information we now desperately needed.

"Come on," said Emily as she wrapped her hand around mine, intertwining our fingers, "there's this shop I found yesterday I want to visit."

I raised my eyebrows in question, allowing her to pull me along as I glanced back at Callista, checking to see if she followed as well. The always so reserved woman's demeanour had subtly changed following what had happened in the bath; she hadn't seemed as bothered by Emily's habit of touching me whenever she could, or by our interactions in general. The woman in question swiftly re-adjusted the bag containing books she'd slung over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed from carrying the heavy thing around. I'd already offered to carry it for her, yet she had turned down my offer without hesitation.

Emily led us to what turned out to be a goldsmith, asking the both of us to wait outside. From the corner of my eye I could see Callista staring at the snow below her feet, absentmindedly trailing her toes through the white powder, collecting some of it on top of her boot. The air was cold, as it had been from the moment we'd arrived, but its sting didn't bother me. The way it made every touch against my skin chafe and burn only further cemented my grasp on what was my current reality — the strange uprooting of all I had come to know.

"I've been thinking," Callista spoke from beside me, the words reluctantly slipping off her faltering tongue, "what is to become of the throne? Who will rule in Lady Emily's stead?"

I turned to look at her, my gaze searching her guarded features, annoyed at her talent for nearly perfect composure. "Forthcoming of you to assume a replacement is her only choice," I replied, tilting my head as I narrowed my eyes, my lips curling around the syllables. "Perhaps, if necessary, your _friend_ Corvo might lay a claim?" I noticed her subtle cringe at my words, which filled me with a sour sense of satisfaction, at least. "Or, perhaps, with the dismantlement of the Abbey, the people might welcome a redeemed ruler and find her unjustly dethroned?"

"I'm sorry to say — and you'll have to excuse my tactlessness — but certainly not with you at her side."

I shrugged, turning to look away, my eyes tracing the structural silhouettes against the inky skies. "That's a possibility."

An uncomfortable silence thickened the breath in my lungs, choked up my throat, Callista's expectant gaze further chilling the air around us. "Is that really all you have to say about that?"

"I don't feel it's my place to make any decisions regarding the matter."

"Just like it wasn't your place to protect my parents from being murdered in your name?" I didn't miss the bitter notes that seeped through her tone, her perfect mask momentarily fractured, until she took a calming breath, quickly covering up the damage before continuing in a more controlled voice. "The people won't welcome you; they've seen your face, they know who you are — who you've been."

Emily stepped out the shop, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she approached us. I sent Callista a brief and final glance, knowing my words would reach only her. "I suggest we enjoy what time we have as it's limited either way," I paused, gaze drawn to my feet, a pointless question soon passing my lips. "Do you blame me?" I already knew the answer.

Callista remained silent, the crunch of snow following Emily's approach filling the air between us. The latter happily wrapped her arm around mine before she pulled me with her, ready to go. It was Callista who interrupted before I could take my first step. "I used to."

* * *

Callista's questions had settled somewhere beneath my skin, the tender sinew made to feel close to tearing as a result of their harsh truth. My throat was sandpaper and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Emily had been quick to notice the tension, but she'd been kind enough not to ask about it. We'd returned to the Inn after that, determined to further pick apart whatever information we could gather — still, I couldn't help but feel restless, the passage of time grating against my thoughts. It felt pointless, all of it, my own words on constant repeat, drowning out any and all possible cognition. I found myself unable to keep from eyeing Emily, her lips twisted and brow puckered as she remained unaware and fully engrossed in whatever book she was reading. I knew Callista noticed, I knew her eyes saw everything. Still, she didn't speak up when I stood, or when I reached for Emily's hand. The former Empress of the Isles shot me a look of surprise as I pulled at the limb, guiding her to follow me, her gaze flitting between me and a silent Callista.

I'd had enough of weathered pages and ancient words.

"Wait, where are we going?" She whispered as I took her out into the hallway, swiftly closing the door to our room, leaving behind a puzzled Callista. Emily's gaze searched mine, her eyes filled with questions dancing and breaking like waves, her lips parting to speak — I silenced her before she could, my arms lifting her up as I captured her mouth with my own, pressing hungry kisses against her lips, my body trapping her against the nearest wall as her legs instinctively wrapped around my hips. I felt my skin heat and my heart start to race at the already familiar taste of her, the way her lips responded to mine leaving me blissfully delirious, so much so I was ready to forget why I'd taken her away in the first place. Her fingers tightly gripped my shirt for balance as my own hands traveled down to hold her legs, further pulling her into me. I felt her shudder against me, her back arching as she met my every move. We broke apart, if only to breathe, our eyes fluttering open to meet. "What was that for?" She panted against my lips, her heady gaze lazily traveling across my face.

I rested my forehead against her own, my eyes hungrily tracing the smouldering fire that danced in hers as I lifted one of my hands to caress her flushed cheek, my thumb drawing tender strokes along the softness of her skin. "Because I love you," the words rumbled from deep within my chest, "and I've grown weary of worrying for a world that doesn't."

Her gaze shot across my own, searching my soul as she processed the words. "So what do you propose?" She whispered in return, her fingers tightening their desperate clutch, further pulling at the fabric of my shirt.

My proposal — which I honestly hadn't given any serious thought before this moment — had been enough to ignite Emily's eyes with plenty of stars to fill the Tyvian sky, her hands excitedly dragging me down the stairs and, after we retrieved our winter coats, through the front door. It was late in the afternoon, the white-clad streets filled with the daily throng of people returning from their jobs. Our hands remained interlocked, my thumb softly stroking along her skin as we walked. No one batted an eye, no one thought to question yet another couple passing by. I was painfully aware these moments of anonymity wouldn't last, and it made me hold on to her even tighter. I had a sneaking suspicion Emily herself had been yearning to get out and simply enjoy what the city had to offer; she seemed to know exactly what she wanted and where. I allowed her to lead me without interruption or complaint, sticking true to my own suggestion as I acquiesced every experience to flow straight through me.

The first place she took me was an art and supplies shop at the edge of town, its windows elaborately painted with lush, botanical patterns. Detailed illustrations of vines and leaves curled their way around its edges, framing the glass in a shroud of fresh green accentuated by a rich gold. Once inside we were greeted by the unique smells of ink, paint and parchment, the air stuffy with gathering dust. Its owner was old, like Nadia — a man who I estimated to be around his late sixties. He seemed all too eager assisting us in finding whatever we needed, and I didn't say anything of it when Emily left him a rather generous tip before leaving, his calloused hands thankfully wrapping around the valuable coin. After that she insisted we visit the docks, the numerous ships that laid moored at Samara's harbour easily spotted as their pannage towered above the sea of snow-covered roofs. We passed the goldsmith on our way there, Emily's eyes taking on a peculiar glint of excitement as she spotted the familiar building before picking up her pace, pulling me along, art supplies safely tucked beneath one of her arms.

We found ourselves drawn to a small cafe, its large windows looking out over the obsidian seas that appeared never-ending. The smells of foam and salt clung to everything, the air itself soaked in the surrounding brine. I welcomed the rough sting of sea breeze, the distant crash of waves a soothing and somewhat cathartic sound. The interior of the cafe much resembled the rest of Samara's general style, a large hearth warming the small space from the centre of the room. Everything was wooden; from the floor, to the walls, to the ceiling — all carved and painted differently. We picked a table next to one of the large windows, its accompanying chairs covered in floral-patterned cushions. I allowed her to pick and choose my order, the ambient sounds of a roaring sea and a hint of outside cold penetrating through thin panes of glass.

She'd unpacked the art supplies, insisting I draw whatever I desired. She herself directed her focus on the inky seas and skies, her elegant fingers wrapping around a piece of shining charcoal — I didn't tell her all I desired sat right across from me, instead I privately marvelled at the way her features shifted beneath my gaze, her eyes flitting between her work and the view ahead, her eyebrows furrowing and lips twisting in concentration. I drew her again, the happy, unworried version of her which I preferred above all others. I discovered there was a new sense of love in the angle of her jaw, the thick brush of her lashes, the pointed tip of her nose; the unique sight of her caused my heart to flutter and my body to warm pleasantly. Within me I could discern the echoes of old poets as they had once described these exact sensations, their words but abstract sentiments to a younger version of me. I had come to realise I had been sleeping, my once-eternal consciousness in a perpetual state of isolated slumber.

She carefully yet elegantly sipped the tea she'd ordered for the both of us, a unique blend from the nearby isle of Morley. I had curiously tasted the warm beverage, allowing the warm liquid to slip across my tongue, its sweet aftertaste lingering on my lips. It had made me long for summers I had never truly experienced — only seen, distantly, half-awake. The fire painted her in a fraudulently sunny hue, it's flickering gleam only a poor imitation of daylight. The sight provoked a long forgotten desire to reawaken within me, a yearning for time spent soaking up the final rays of sunshine, their glow leaving skin to simmer and beaches to sparkle as the glimmering sand bid farewell to another day, illuminated like scattered gemstones — I could recall every stretch of earth that broke apart the seas with vivid detail, yet I had no idea what the sand that created beaches would feel like between my toes, or what the forests that spanned from Gristol to Morley smelled like after a drenching rain.

The realisation hung over me for the remainder of the evening; through shared meals and badly concealed snorts of amusement, through coy looks and even the comfortable silence as we walked home. I was well aware a great number of people throughout history shared my inexperience with the world; only few ever travelled, and of those few you were either a rich noble venturing out to enjoy whatever pleasure the isles had to offer, or a hard-working sailor, roughened by harsh days spent on an unforgiving ocean. Was it selfish of me, then? Was I wrong for desiring what good things I knew this world possessed?

Was it strange of me to want to show her more?

* * *

"Wake up," I whispered against Emily's skin as I pressed several lazy kisses along her cheekbone, drawing a languid sigh from her lips.

"Is it morning already?" She asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.

"Better yet," I smiled into her hair as I nuzzled closer to her warmth, "it's still night."

"Wha-" she turned around, drooping eyes tiredly squinting up at me, "why did you wake me — what time is it?"

I traced the tip of my nose along her earlobe, fighting the temptation to bite the sensitive skin just to see her reaction. "Four," I mumbled.

"Four?" She shot up, the blankets dropping down her exposed skin, all hints of sleep suddenly erased from her being. "Matvey! What are you doing waking me up at four in the morning?" She complained, the sharp contours of her frown illuminated by the sole lantern that continued to burn dimly. My eyes swept across her bared form appreciatively, quite content with the view from where I was still laying down. She appeared to notice as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, casting me a berating look.

"We're sneaking out," I spoke as I met her grumpy scowl, feeling rather amused by her temper.

"Sneaking ou- why?" She blinked, a disbelieving frown shadowing her eyes. "We can walk out the front door, no questions asked."

I tilted my head at her, feeling a smirk tug at my lips. "Where's the fun in that?"

Her frown deepened in confusion. "Fun?"

"We're sneaking out the window, of course."

"Why?"

"Because you look profoundly attractive doing it."

Her mouth opened and closed several times as different thoughts passed behind her eyes. "Have you been watching me sneak out the Tower?" She narrowed said eyes at me.

A tooth-baring grin crept up on me, causing her stare to narrow even further. "With exceptional interest, Your Imperial Majesty."

An answering grin broke through her sullen visage, her teeth worrying her lower lip as her gaze twinkled with amusement. "Fine," she raised an eyebrow, "see if you can keep up with me, you human fossil."

* * *

"Still think this is 'fun'?" Emily questioned from behind me as I continued to stare at the ground below, hands gripping the window frame and eyes intently scanning our surroundings.

"I know you're not one to be flattered by traditional customs, but; ladies first," I said, easily spotting the smouldering remains of the festival's bonfire several blocks away. She joined me, gaze sweeping across the ledge, eyes eagerly assessing the drop. I watched the way her stance changed, an air of excitement rolling off of her in waves. Her hands grasped the wooden frame, fingers curling around its edges, before she lifted herself into a graceful crouch, both feet raised onto the narrow space without much of a sound. It was impressive, really, and I silently admired the fluidity of her every movement.

"You can still use the front door if you'd prefer," she offered, sincerity colouring her tone.

I met her gaze, recognising the hints of worry that clung to the edges of her features. "And miss the precious look on your face as I risk my life?" I quipped airily. "I think not."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as she mumbled through her smile, "suit yourself," before leaning down to press a chaste kiss against my cheek, effectively turning my insides to a warm, liquified mush. She turned away from me then, darting down with controlled ease, her coat billowing with every movement as the wind seemingly carried her on its arms. It was only a matter of seconds before her feet touched solid ground again, a sly smile on her face as her eyes flitted back up to meet mine in challenge.

I checked the surrounding streets a final time, taking a deep breath to ease the adrenaline that surged through me at the thought of going down. The rows of lanterns had died already, casting the area in shadows, the waning moon serving as our only source of light. Curiosity had gotten the best of me again, urging me into doing what I knew to be possibly reckless — but a loud and rather demanding voice inside of me told me now was the best, and probably safest, time to start testing myself.

No more gambles; I had something far too precious to protect.

The very sentiment reminded me of Corvo, his love and devotion evident in every death defying feat he'd delivered following his imprisonment. There was a small part of me that wished to be more like him; the righteous, honourable man who would not succumb to darkness — not even when all was against him, when all was taken from him. I looked down as I lifted myself onto the small wooden threshold, the surrounding shadows swallowing every sound, every hint of life. I knew I was no Corvo, I far lacked his bravery, his unbreakable morality, his responsibility when it came to doing what duty commanded of him. I allowed my legs to dangle, the cold air penetrating the woollen fabric of my pants. But — I figured as I took another deep breath, the frost-filled atmosphere scalding my throat, my lungs — the very least I could do was try.

I dipped my toes in air, my body plunging down an invisible tide. There was a moment of weightlessness, reminiscent of years spent without a physical presence, before the wind broke me apart, flashing like sparks of lightning, fragmenting my every fiber until even my very thoughts consisted of nothing but breeze-carried whispers. I floated in peripheral orbit, skirting along the bounds of a physical world mirrored by the Void — the all-consuming darkness I'd grown familiar with nipping at my clothes, my limbs, my skin. All too soon I found myself crouching in a blanket of snow, its cold eating away at the warmth in my palms and fingertips as I tried to steady myself.

"You cheat!" I heard Emily hiss from somewhere beside me, drawing my gaze towards her. She stood with her hands on her hips, an annoyed frown on her face. "You can't just use your powers like that, what if someone saw you?" She continued in a hurried whisper, her annoyance quickly melting to worry.

"I suppose that would make it particularly hard for us to go out for breakfast again." I raised myself from my crouching position, waves of static still coursing through my body, frazzling my mind. "In case it might be of any relief to you; at this time of night the most common pedestrians to roam the streets still are usually too drunk to properly distinguish their home from a ditch."

Emily crossed her arms with a huff, shaking her head at me. "You didn't tell me you were going to cheat, though."

"It's more fun that way, isn't it?" I smiled, patting the snow from my pants before taking her hand in mine. "Come on."

She paused, eyeing me warily before speaking. "Where are we going?"

"Sometimes the most rewarding queries are those purposefully left to smoulder and fuel the inquisitive mind," I spoke as I shook my head at her, earning myself a scoff.

"You could have just said it's a surprise, but sure, I'll humour you," she deadpanned, raising a single eyebrow at me.

I couldn't keep the grin off my face as I took her hand, impatiently tugging the limb to get her to move as I ravaged my memories for directions. I knew the museum hadn't been far from here, and if I could use its location as a vantage point I'd at least know which way to head. It had been a long time since I'd last visited the outskirts of Samara's busy streets, or seen the dark pine that surrounded the city like an endless wall, it's sturdy foundation entirely made up of tall branches and bristly leaves. Emily kept her silence as we darted through abandoned streets, the occasional sliver of moonlight that managed to wash through clouds and rooftops alighting the icy landscape like a sea of fallen stars. The snow crunched beneath our feet, its satisfying sounds bouncing off of walls and windows as we passed house after house. I didn't turn to look at her as I kept my pace, too self-conscious of the persistent smile that caused my cheeks to ache.

I was excited, giddily so. My body still thrummed with the remnants of my adrenaline inducing act, traces of the Void still tickling my skin, fizzling through my veins. There wasn't an inkling of the sickening fatigue that had clawed at me after the first few times I had used my strange abilities, no sting of painfully charred skin — instead I felt almost as I had when running across the whales; invincible, something for which I had Sokolov to thank. I was aware there would be a limit, I had seen it with all my marked. If I could get familiar with my own strengths and weaknesses, I might just be of use when push came to shove. I was no assassin, Royal Protector or prodigy in the martial arts — but I did know my way around magic. I slowed as we reached the edge of town, the all-consuming darkness of the woods right in front of us. I felt Emily's hand stiffen within mine, her feet coming to a halt next to me. I glanced her way, taking in her apprehensive features as she stared at the mass of trees ahead.

"Don't tell me you're planning on going in there?" She sent me a look of disbelief, eyebrows raised almost to her hairline.

I threw a glance over my shoulder, checking to see if anyone walked the street behind us. As expected, there wasn't a soul in sight, the dark, structural silhouettes looming over us like the jagged hills and cliffs flanking the Tower, their lonely sight reminiscent of the discarded whales that littered slaughterhouse row. "Whatever happened to that unquenchable thirst for adventure of yours?" I turned back towards the treeline, eyes roaming the dark gaps that intermittently divided the thick brush.

"Drowning in duties each with possible impact on an empire can do that to a person," she grumbled, and I knew she was being superfluous.

I turned to her, carefully taking her other hand in mine as well, both my thumbs stroking her skin as I slowly started walking backwards, leading her towards the thicket. "None of that matters here," I rumbled, watching the moonlight skirt along her features, highlighting her beauty. She tilted her head, her gaze darting across my face, searching my eyes, a newfound curiosity starting to bloom in hers. I carefully observed as the darkness swallowed me, my arms, our hands — and lastly her. I could still see the city through crowded rows of age-old trees, the final remnants of light just barely slipping between the pine. I released one of her hands, my fingers tightening around the other as I continued to lead her forward, my feet following a path made up of archaic recollections. Emily followed me without question, the shadows now thick enough to render us practically blind. The darkness allowed for our other senses to heighten, every little sound more intense, every passing scent more pronounced.

I didn't slow my pace, my eyes soon catching the smallest hint of light ahead, a rare clearing breaking apart the mass of trees. A lot had changed in 4000 years, but if memory served me right this should the spot I'd intended to take her. Slowly but surely, the trees made way for rockier terrain, large stones and pebbles sticking out from beneath the snow. As the forest thinned, moonlight managed to spill from between the treetops, small flecks illuminating the ground beneath our feet. Emily let out a soft gasp, her eyes roaming the silver clad clearing once we emerged from the darkness. The landscape had shifted after several centuries, large boulders and stone ridges had tumbled like waves, swallowing whatever once rested beneath.

I frowned, releasing Emily's hand, my gaze sweeping across newborn hills and small cliffs. "Just a moment," I threw her way, my eyes never leaving the sight ahead.

"What are you goin-"

She didn't get to finish as I crouched down, pressing my palms against the snow, the familiar rush of electricity spilling from my limbs, white light scattering across slopes of ice. Weathered rocks started shifting back into place with a loud, nearly deafening rumble. More and more, I began to recognise certain jagged edges and familiar peaks. Steam seeped through newly formed cracks, curling through the air in large plumes, creating a subtle layer of mist around us. At the center of it all, a quickly growing pool of hot water spilled from between the rocks, thick clouds of vapour rising from its surface. I carefully controlled my every breath, feeling the Void pull at the air around me, sizzling through my veins and muscles like molten fire. I was starting to reach my limit, my skin overheating, my tendons straining to hold me together. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to pull through as I watched the water rise, creating a sizeable lagoon.

"How do you do that?" Emily asked as I finally raised myself from the ground, the steaming pond a rare milky-blue. There was an astonished smile on her face as she stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with earnest wonder. I slowly turned towards her, my hands reaching for the buttons of her coat, fingers soon working on undoing them as she stared up at me curiously.

"Do you remember, in the Void, how streams fell in reverse?" I asked, my fingers pulling the coat down her arms, removing the heavy article before starting on the next. "What if time were a current, its flow always headed in the same direction?" My eyes followed each piece of fabric as it left her skin, drinking in the sight of her bronzed neck, soft shoulder, supple breast. "Now imagine controlling that flow, almost like trailing your fingers through water, its waves following your every motion." I allowed my fingers to dance down the curves of her bared torso, watching as the cold wrapped her in goose-bumps, a slight shiver running through her at my touch. "What happens then, Emily?" I met her gaze through half-lidded eyes, raising my eyebrows in question, my lips already hungering for hers.

She tipped her head, small hands traveling up my coat, mirroring my actions, delicate fingers undoing every single button. "It flows in whatever direction you guide it," she breathed, pulling down my coat, discarding it to the ground next to hers before starting on my shirt. She licked her lips, her gaze briefly darting to my chest, the cold nipping at my bared skin as she peeled away my clothing. "Could you join it? Swim down the years?"

I shook my head, taking a step closer. "It only interferes with the state of one thing." I wrapped my hand around one of her arms, placing her palm against my chest where she could see it. "The course of a single stream never affects the ocean." I trailed my fingers across her skin, the buzz of magic causing the tissue to wrinkle with age. She pulled away immediately, as if burned by my touch, large eyes staring down at a now unmarred limb before meeting my gaze again. "It's not permanent," I sent her a small, knowing smile, recognising the flicker of thought in her eyes, knowing exactly what she had wanted to ask. She nodded, biting her lip, the tension that had gripped her soothed away by my words. I continued undressing her, her bare feet soon stepping into the snow. I kicked off my own shoes, my toes feeling the familiar sting of ice between them.

We were both naked, the cold soaking into our skin, illustrated by the silver gleam of the moon, the night painting our bodies in hues of gray. I took her hands in mine again, leading her towards the water, watching as she marvelled at the steaming pool. Swirls of vapour curled around our legs, kissing our chilled skin with their warmth. I was the first to step down into the milky liquid, its heat pouring into me, loosening up every muscle, washing away every ache. Emily followed, and I watched as relief flooded her features at the pleasant temperature, a delighted smile lighting up her face. I led her deeper, the both of us wading through layers of mist, the heat causing our skin to flush. There was something ethereal about her, her graceful figure outlined in silver as she continued to follow me, the mist causing the water that swallowed her to seem endless. Her eyes never left mine, a thousand questions dancing in their depths, pausing on her lips. I stopped moving when her shoulders disappeared beneath the surface, the water's gentle slosh hitting against my chest.

"What else can you do?" She asked then, an awed smile on her lips.

I lifted a hand to caress the side of her face, fingers traveling down her cheek, my eyes following their path. "I don't know," I admitted.

She leaned into my touch, her own hand wrapping around mine, pulling it flush against her skin, cupping her cheek. "Sometimes I miss your mark," she whispered earnestly, a forlorn look in her eyes. A small smile lifted the corners of my mouth and I slowly pulled her into me, pressing our chests together. I watched as her eyes darkened with hunger, those tantalising depths begging me to close the distance. I obeyed, feeling a million things sweep over me — as if it was our first kiss all over again. My heart galloped within my chest, my hands desperate to hold onto her as she stole my every breath away.

The sky became water, and the water became the sky, and soon I wasn't even sure where I ended and she began. All I was sure of, as we traded snow-covered mountains for the cocooning warmth of the lagoon, was that I'd show her every corner of the world if I were capable.

* * *

The music grew louder the closer we got, it's rhythmic notes steadily accompanied by the melodic echoes of laughter. Emily's hand nearly crushed mine as she dragged me along, an excited grin on her face — it had been there from the moment I'd agreed to visit the festival with her again. She'd insisted I wear the traditional fashion, and I had to admit it didn't hurt to see her in the same figure-hugging dress as last time, its golden thread catching the glow of every lantern we passed. I almost didn't notice the many stalls selling foods, drinks and even souvenirs, my eyes drawn only to the fabric of her dress as it flowed with her every movement, stretching across her hips seductively. There were people participating in different kinds of games, their cheers filling the air with a sense of excitement, their efforts rewarded by a variety of prizes. Much like before, no one paid much attention to the both of us, our passing through met with greeting smiles and polite nods. Emily seemed to love the taste of normalcy, her beaming grin managing to charm most everyone we crossed, me included.

"Violet!" A voice rang out from somewhere, and it didn't take us long to find Artur waving at us. He pushed his way through the crowd, eagerly making his approach — I didn't share his enthusiasm. "Hey!" he was slightly out of breath when he reached us, his pale cheeks flush with colour. "I'm happy to see you give the festival another try — I mean, you know, after you left so abruptly last time, I- are you, or were you okay?" He rambled through his lopsided grin, eyebrows pulled together in worry, gaze flitting between the two of us, hesitantly lingering on me. I couldn't stop the narrowing of my eyes or the tensing of my shoulders.

"I'm terribly sorry for leaving like that," Emily sent him a polite smile, "my fiancé wasn't feeling too well, it turned out." She inched closer to me, wrapping an arm behind my back and resting a steadying hand against my chest, the gesture causing some of the tension to leave me.

"Ah, Matvey, I do hope you're feeling better at least?" Artur directed his attention to me, his gaze studying me awkwardly.

Emily gave me a reassuring squeeze, and I knew she wanted me to answer. "I'm fine," I forged a smile for her sake.

"Well if the two of you'd like, me and my friends are having some drinks over there, you'd be welcome to join!" Artur immediately continued, turning back to Emily.

The look she sent me mirrored my own uncertainty, but I'd proposed the idea, had I not? This was all part of what I'd wanted, after all. "Sure," I spoke, catching the surprise on Emily's face, "why not."

Artur appeared overjoyed at my consent, leading us back towards his friends without a single moment of silence. We followed, Emily's hands gripping my arm, our bodies pressed together as we weaved our way through the mass of people.

"Matvey, are you really okay with this?" Emily whispered as she squeezed my bicep, frowning up at me.

I glanced her way, sending her a reassuring smile. "You could do with some more... lively company," I shrugged, enjoying the amused grin that curved her lips.

Artur's friends, a group of five, were all seated around one of the many large tables that stood a notable distance away from the fire, its surface littered with both finished and unfinished drinks. The smell of strong liquor hovered all around them, as did the buzz of joyful laughter. They were all around Emily's age, pale-skinned but rosy-cheeked as they enjoyed Tyvia's famous wines and other inebriating drinks.

"Artur!" One of the men called, his head covered in an unruly mop of red hair, one of his arms wrapped around a giggling woman. "Who're this you brought with'ya!"

Artur walked up to the man, roughly slapping his shoulder as they laughed, his gaze darting between his friends and us — or perhaps just Emily. "Violet, Matvey, meet Luka," he gestured at the red-haired man beside him before pointing his gaze at the woman beneath said man's arm, "and, of course, his lovely girlfriend Sabina." Sabina greeted us with a wave, the glass in her hand spilling some of its contents across her lap. "Seated on the opposite side are Alena, Zima and Filip."

The three remaining occupants greeted us at their introduction, one of the girls quickly turning her attention back to Artur. "So this is Violet?" Alena teased, raising her eyebrows at her friend.

Artur visibly flushed, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck as he chuckled awkwardly. "I might have told my friends about you guys already," he admitted, before his eyes widened, "oh, sit, please!" He pointed down at the wooden benches that surrounded the table, motioning at the empty spots. He himself sat down next to Luka, and I decided I'd take the spot next to him, allowing Emily to sit next to Alena who sent her a playful smile. "You see," Artur continued from his place beside me, "what with the Whale Oil malfunctioning not many foreigners are visiting Samara — in fact, it's almost exclusively Tyvians this year. Lucky for us though, we use Whale Oil to keep the fire going, and what with the loss of power nobody seems to want the stuff anymore — the festival's yearly expenses on Whale Oil have been reduced to nothing overnight!"

"Where was it you guys were from?" Filip asked from the other side of the table, the girl next to him happily using her fingers to draw circles on his sleeve.

"Gristol," Emily replied, gaze locking with mine, "Matvey's father was Tyvian."

"Gristol, huh? I'd have you pegged for a Serkonan," Filip sat back, crossing his arms curiously.

"My father is," Emily nodded.

"Lucky you," Alena leaned closer, eyes tracing along Emily's features, "you have such a gorgeous complexion."

Emily sent her a thankful smile, about to reply when her attention was drawn back to Filip. "So where in Gristol?" He asked, leaning his elbows on the table as his eyes darted between the both of us.

"Whitecliff," Emily answered smoothly, earning a nod from Filip.

"That must have been quite the journey!" The girl next to him, Zima exclaimed, gazing at Emily with large, brown eyes.

"Any'ne up for 'nother round?" Luka stood from his place, eyeing the group expectantly. When he was done taking his friends' orders he turned to Emily and I, raising his eyebrows in question.

I glanced across the table, unsure what to do but loathe to admit it. Emily seemed to pick up on my indecisiveness, swiftly turning towards Luka. "No, thank you, we'll pass for now."

"Nonsense!" He declared, slapping a hand against my shoulder, much like Artur had done to him. "A true Tyvian n'ver passes up a drink! I'll get y'guys someth'n nice!" He promptly left after that, allowing us no chance to protest. I sourly rubbed my shoulder, ignoring Artur's snickers.

"Since you're both from Whitecliff I reckon you guys might have heard the news from Dunwall?" Alena asked, downing what remained of her drink in one gulp, neatly placing the glass with the other finished ones.

"What news?" I asked, meeting her gaze, the bonfire's heat suddenly replaced by the subtle chill of dread.

"Well, it's just rumours — something I overheard from my co-workers..." she paused, tucking a strand of dark, wavy hair behind her ear. "Supposedly their Empress was dethroned — again."

"Again?" Filip snorted incredulously. "How hard can it be to keep the damn job?"

"That's not even the shocking part," she continued, looking around the table conspiringly. "She was going to be executed, and honestly this is where they lost me," she chuckled, adding the final part in a secretive whisper, "for having an affair with the Outsider-"

Filip burst out laughing, "I'm pretty sure she and everyone's mom has had an affair with 'the Outsider'," he spoke the title in an ominous whisper.

I heard Artur chuckle beside me, and I couldn't keep myself from turning to Filip. "You don't believe he exists?" The question could be considered rhetorical.

"You silly southerners and your superstitions," he waved off the sentiment, "the only thing I fear at night is Zima without her make-up." The comment earned him a slap to the arm.

"You said 'was'," Emily suddenly interjected, "what happened?"

Alena turned to her, her gaze darting between the two of us. "They disappeared, black magic they call it."

"They probably sent her to an insane asylum instead," Filip shrugged, "sounds like one crazy lady if you ask me."

"What was her name again?" Artur asked. "Emma, or something?"

"Emily," I corrected, watching the glint of steel as I twisted my ritual ring between my fingers.

"It's probably for the best; it's inappropriate for a woman to rule, if you ask me," Filip shrugged, quickly adding, "no offense, dear."

"No one did ask," I rebutted before Emily could stop me, eyes shooting up from my hands, "but it might be interesting to know history has proven women to be the better rulers."

There was a pause around the table, Filip's face draining of colour as the women started giggling at his expense. "He's got you there," Sabina snickered at her friend, more of her wine spilling across her lap as she gestured at him. Just then Luka made his return, carrying a wooden plank full of new drinks, the table erupting in cheers as he passed them around, the conversation soon forgotten.

"I don't think I've ever seen eyes like yours," Alena commented suddenly, chin resting in her palm, her other hand eagerly stirring the drink Luka just handed her.

I found myself staring down at the glass in front of me, watching the reflection of flames flicker and dance within its red liquid. "I've been told," I replied dryly, daring a small sip, surprised by the bitter taste.

"You'd make some special babies," she continued.

I choked on my drink, feeling some of it spill down my chin as the heat in my face increased to the point where it could no longer be blamed on the bonfire. I caught Emily's amused smirk as she watched me cough and splutter pathetically.

"We'd like a girl someday," she smiled, ignoring my burning face.

"I love kids," Artur agreed, slick bastard.

"You don't want children?" Alena asked me.

"I- I haven't thought about it." I straightened my back nervously, feeling everyone's eyes on me. "I wouldn't be a good parent."

"Nonsense!" Emily waved a hand at me. "You'd be a great father to our kids."

"It's multiple now?" I hadn't been aware my voice could hit the high notes it just did.

"Of course, our daughter needs a brother or sister to conspire with, all great forces come in teams."

"When do you plan on getting married?" Sabina suddenly asked, tearing her attention away from Luka.

Emily bit her lip, sending me a secretive look. "I was hoping sometime this week."

"This week?" I asked in surprise, unaware we were actually getting married in the first place.

"I was waiting for the ring to be adjusted," she admitted, and I only now noticed it was gone from her finger.

"You're serious?" I shook my head. "Your father will end me."

"Your father doesn't know?" Artur frowned in concern.

"He- it's complicated," Emily admitted. "He'll know soon enough."

"You can't stop love," Sabina remarked dreamily.

I rubbed my temple, taking another sip of the Tyvian drink, feeling it burn down my throat, willing my heart to stop pounding in my ears as I tried to forget about Corvo the assassin and how he could stop just about anything.

"Well if you don't mind I think I'm going to steal your fiancé for a minute," Alena announced as I quickly downed the rest of my drink, feeling an unfamiliar heaviness pull at my limbs, inadvertently forcing me to let go of the tension in my muscles. She surprised me when it was _my_ hand she fished off the table, pulling me to my feet with baffling ease. I had no room to protest as she pulled me along, leaving me no chance to process what was happening, my mind suddenly slower than I was used to. I looked back to Emily in confusion, but she appeared caught up in another conversation. "Your hand feels strange," Alena noted once we reached the bonfire, its heat rippling across my skin.

"Hmm?" I felt dazed, distant, dizzy.

"Have you ever had wine before?" She let out an amused laugh, turning towards me.

I found myself glancing back at Emily, wondering if she had even noticed me leaving. "Is that what it was?" I mumbled, my blood thick and sluggish.

"You do still know how to dance, do you?" Alena raised an eyebrow at me, placing her free hand on my shoulder. I felt myself tense beneath her, turning to eye her warily, earning another laugh from her. "It's okay to touch me, I don't bite." She reached to place one of my hands on her hip, the other held pointed sideways by her. She was smaller than Emily, rounder too, her skin almost as pale as mine. I had to crane my neck to look her in the eye, something that made me feel strangely out of proportion. She had started moving her feet, and I tried my best to follow her lead, my brain swimming within my skull. "Artur mentioned you — well, I mean, more like he's mentioned Violet, to be honest." She tipped her head curiously. "You seem nothing like he said."

"That's what interpretation does," I uttered through the fog of my mind. The bonfire roared loudly, its flickering light strangely disorientating. I blinked in an attempt to clear my thoughts. "It's no different from painting with a restricted palette."

"Are you a philosopher?" She asked with a confused frown, but she soon decided to drop the question when I sent her an inattentive look. "Anyway, you had him worrying for your fiancé," her eyes darted between mine searchingly, "should he be?"

I averted my gaze, looking out across the mass of people that surrounded us, trying to give her words some serious thought despite my dizziness. "Does he make a habit of worrying over strangers he hardly knows?"

"I think he likes her," she admitted, "but I can see why she's with you."

I narrowed my gaze at her, the edges of my eyesight blurred by the wine. "You wanted to dance just to tell me this?"

She laughed, a little too sharply for my taste. "Of course not," she shook her head, "I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate the festival with a handsome man."

I ignored her flirtatious words, wondering if this had all been Artur's idea. "And what is it we're celebrating?" I blurted out before I could stop myself, mentally cursing my slippery tongue.

"You don't know?" She asked, raising her eyebrow again. "We're celebrating a successful harvest."

I froze at the unexpected words, sending her a look of confusion. "What?"

She smiled proudly as she took the chance to boast her knowledge, an excited look in her eyes as she spoke. "It's said that many centuries ago the water became undrinkable, causing all the fish to die and the crops to fail — an absolute disaster for a town that spends half the year without light. We've been celebrating every last harvest before the darkness ever since."

"So it has nothing to do with the Outsider?"

She laughed at that, an amused smile lingering on her lips as she spoke, "the Outsider is just a story to scare the children, a ploy by the Abbey of the Everyman."

I nodded in understanding, my eyes gazing around the crowd again, taking in their happy faces, their joyful dancing — none of it for me. The music felt brighter, somehow, the heaviness that had weighed down on me melted away by the flames of the crackling bonfire. "If you don't mind, I think I'll go dance with my fiancé now," I spoke, distantly, "thank you." I turned away from the short girl, my feet carrying me back towards the table. If she said anything else, I didn't hear it, all other sounds drowned out by the festive drum that beat with every step I took. I quickly caught sight of Emily again, her laughing face lighting up the space around her. She noticed me as I approached, her eyes flicking my way, sparkling with delight at the sight of me.

"I missed you," she admitted once I was close enough to hear, her hand wrapping around mine eagerly as soon as I offered it. I smiled as I pulled her from her seat, leading her with me with all the poise my wine-influenced mind still allowed.

"You shouldn't allow other women to steal away your man like that," I chastised her, directing her towards the fire. "Such things hardly ever end well."

"You know hounds sometimes mark their mates with their teeth," she smirked. "Would you have my mark?"

"The irony would be a compelling factor," I admitted, pulling her closer, her hand traveling up my chest until it came to rest on top of my shoulder. Her body swayed against mine as we started to move to the music, our breaths intermingling as I rested my forehead against hers.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" She asked, smiling lazily, her half-lidded eyes gazing up at mine.

I wove my fingers through hers, my other hand resting on the small of her back, feeling every movement beneath her dress. "You look beautiful, do you know that?" I hummed, enjoying the way her scent lingered in the air around her. "And also, maybe the wine."

She chuckled against me, the sound filling my chest. "I like you when you're tipsy."

"Why is that?" I asked, closing my eyes as I rested my chin on the top of her head, her cheek pressed against my chest.

"For one, you'll willingly dance with me for a change." She paused, burying her nose into my shirt, breathing me in. "So, is this all you had in mind when you proposed we go out and live?"

I smiled into her hair, pressing a kiss against her scalp. "All that and more."

* * *

Perhaps the second glass of wine hadn't been the greatest idea, but then again, the third had been an even worse one. The streets danced beneath my feet, the air shoving me around and causing me to stumble. Right now even the Void had made more sense, my knees defiantly disobeying my every order. Emily continued her snorts and giggles at the sight, her own feet even less adept at carrying her home at this point — she really wasn't in any position to be laughing. I didn't dare imagine the mortifying process of sobering up, the memory of our drunken antics probably enough to keep me from liquor for the remainder of my life. We'd lingered at the bonfire until its last embers had died out, our table overflowing with emptied glasses and a snoring Luka.

I had to admit, interacting with them had been quite nice, despite their insistence on feeding us more and more drinks. I'd never been a part of anything, really, and their open armed acceptance had broken down my walls fairly quickly — or maybe it had been the wine. Even so, it had been nice to see Emily have fun, her sheltered upbringing and status often keeping her from enjoying the festivities the way I knew she wanted. It had been a long time since I'd seen her laugh around others without restraint, since I'd witnessed that defiant spark in her eyes that never failed to draw in the people around her. She truly was an Empress, carrying the ability to entrance the crowd within her very bones. I felt her bump into me as she stumbled again, another snicker escaping her as she pulled at me for balance. I almost lost mine as a result, my hand catching on the door of the inn just in time, Emily's undying laughter doing nothing to improve my predicament.

"You look like an idiot," she wheezed from beneath my arm, her cheeks flushed brightly.

"Says the moron in the _red_ dress," I fired back, my hand fruitlessly searching for the doorknob, unable to contain my own laughter as I watched her face fall at the mention of her ruined garment. My fingers finally wrapped around cool metal, turning it eagerly, a little too eagerly as the door suddenly swung open and sent us stumbling through. Emily burst out into another fit of laughter, her arms clinging to me for support, my own balance caught against the nearest table. The entire room spun around me, the walls dancing before my eyes as I choked on my own gasps for air. The sound of a throat being cleared caused my blood to run cold, the influence of wine immediately forgotten by its sobering effect.

There, near the fireplace sat the familiar figure of Callista, flanked by a very, very grim looking Corvo.


	19. Kill

"You're drunk."

It was a statement, not a question. Emily dropped her gaze to the floor, slowly lowering the arm that had still rested on his shoulder after she'd ran up to hug him. "Father, I-"

"Do the two of you have any idea of the mess you left behind?" Corvo hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sit," he ordered, an enraged scowl thrown my way.

The room itself was illuminated only by the hearth's dying flames, charred blocks of wood left to smoulder within its pit. It created a strange and somewhat intimidating atmosphere, the small space surrounding the fireplace soaked in red, its light painting Corvo's features in nothing but scarlet outlines. I couldn't find it within myself to meet his searing gaze, my eyes staring down at the floor as I obeyed, approaching said hearth with balled fists and sorely unbalanced steps. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to let things get this far, the taste of Tyvian wine still lingering on my tongue — almost as bitter as the thought of what was to come. I found myself wondering why Corvo was alone, my mind briefly straying to Lurk, her absence surprisingly tangible. I glanced at Callista, who sat as poised and unreadable as ever, her gaze briefly meeting mine before returning to Corvo. Emily had lowered herself on the same couch we'd sat on only a few days prior, leaving enough space for me to join — I was well-aware the wiser choice in this situation would be the lone armchair next to it, but Corvo's furious demeanour left me inclined to give in to my spiteful incentives — which I did. I sat down next to his daughter as Corvo rejoined Callista, his aggravated glare flitting between Emily and I.

"Imagine the surprise I felt when the head of the guard informed me of what had passed during my absence?" He spoke, leaning his elbows on his knees, a hand rubbing his face.

"Father, people might hear-"

"No one is going to hear anything. Lurk is making sure of that," he interrupted, inadvertently easing my worries. He let out a weary sigh before continuing, "a vicious lie spread by the Abbey is one thing — a sprouting belief among the common people, however, that's a whole other pile of rats."

"What are you talking about?" Emily asked, more timidly than I'd heard her in a while.

"I'm talking, _Emily_ ," he hissed, "about how you and the damn _Outsider_ have garnered a cult-following thanks to your little disruption at Lord Heaton's party."

"What?" The word slipped off my tongue, dangling in the air between us, like bait used to lure in hagfish, quickly drawing all eyes to me — the very last thing I wanted.

"Oh, I'll get to you in a minute," Corvo grumbled darkly before returning his attention to his daughter. "Emily, I am beyond relieved to see you're still alive — safe — but I cannot believe, after all that has happened, you would behave so carelessly. Your name has been purposefully tarnished, yet here you are, doing absolutely nothing to abolish that, still associating with the man who cost you your throne and nearly your life too — for goodness sake, you're getting drunk together!"

"Corvo," It was Callista who spoke, a stern expression on her features. "Your daughter has been through _a lot_ , and right now it is late. I'm sure the both of them are very tired and hardly in any state of mind to be discussing these matters." She shook her head, her frown deepening. "There is still plenty more to say, let's save our breath for when it is well spent instead of wasted in rash anger,"

"Tired?" Corvo started, turning his scowl on me. "I don't care if the damn _Outsider_ is tired — I told the bastard to stay away from my daughter, very explicitly, yet here he is taking advantage of her!"

I was about to speak when Callista interrupted. "Let me make this clear; it was your daughter who pursued _him_. The Outsider has, despite anything you or I might expect, always kept her best interest in mind." Was she defending me?

"Callista, you know I respect you, bu-"

"Father!" Emily spoke up, fists balled in her lap, an offended frown on her features. "She's right. I did continue to pursue him — I'm the one who insisted we be together."

Corvo's face took on a shade I had not often seen on the man. " _Be together?_ " He stood from the sofa, shocked gaze shooting between the both of us. "Are you out of your mind!" His hands shot up, gesturing angrily. "This is the Outsider you're talking about, Emily, not some commoner for you to court!"

Corvo's words cut me deeper than I liked to admit, the implication that anyone would have been fine but me chafing along my insides, puncturing tender sinew and drawing cold blood.

"You don-"

"I won't have it," he shook his head in fury. "Do you have any idea the kind of man he is? The irresponsibility of your childish infatuation?"

"Because that's what it's all about, isn't it?" I sneered, fed up as I stood from my place, trying my best to remain balanced, the wine coursing through my blood acting as liquid courage, prompting me to speak up. "What are you going to tell her?" I tipped my head, a cold frown pulling at my brow. "To be ' _real_ '?" I watched as he visibly blanched, all colour drained from his face at the word, furthering my resolve, encouraging my intent to wound and hurt. "Are you going to tell her to ' _grow up_ '? Because that worked so well last time, did it not?"

He took a step towards me, pointing a berating finger my way. "Don't you da-"

"I can tell you exactly what would have happened had Jessamine heeded your words, the slow deterioration of all you had grown to love — everything you would come to cherish," I continued, the words falling from my lips with staggering ease despite their weight, smooth and firm as sanded pebbles. "I can describe in agonising detail the growing resentfulness and bitter condemnation festering between the two of you, ripping apart every ounce of tenderness remaining in the aftermath of your short-sighted commands." I narrowed my eyes, squaring my shoulders as I watched Corvo grow increasingly volatile. There was a pinch of sadness in his dark eyes, sorrow carving mournful lines upon his weathered skin.

"Stop-"

"No! It's your turn to listen!" I cut him off, raising my voice, stunning the man into silence. But the will to cut his soul and bleed his hatred clean had dissipated with the first glimpses of his suffering. I sighed, glancing down at my feet for a moment, the small act enough to bring back some of the wine-induced dizziness — and why was my throat suddenly closing up? "Because now I tell you none of those words, those mistakes, matter. I chose to mark you, and through that decision something entirely unforeseen happened: I found I started caring again. Because you, Corvo, you were everything I-" I shook my head, trying my best to control my voice, unable to hide its crack as I cut myself off. A part of my mind was screaming at myself, commanding my intoxicated mind to shut up while I could. "I looked up to you — because you defied my every expectation," I paused, blood rushing in my ears, the hearth's dying fire dancing at the edge of my blurred vision. I was talking too much, my mouth forming words before my mind could think them, conjuring up emotions I wasn't even conscious of. "I'm well aware I'm going to regret most of what I'm saying, but at the same time I wouldn't want you judging my character without me having said exactly this. You want an idea of what kind of man I am? Because perhaps you're right; I can admit I'm selfish, irresponsible and petty. But I am as much my faults as I am my strengths, and I am nothing if not sincere — so I sincerely mean it when I tell you you're about to make another mistake, and I don't need the ability of foresight to recognise that."

Emily raised herself from the couch at my words, sending me a hesitant look. "Matvey…" she spoke softly, anxiously, "what is all this you're talking about?"

I hesitated, meeting her gaze, my self-restraint left somewhere at the bottom of an emptied glass of liquor. "You wanted to know why your father hit me that day?" I asked, knowing there was no turning back now. "It's because I reminded him of his biggest regret; rejecting you." I turned back to Corvo, observing the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared in aggravation, tilting my head as my eyes wandered his sombrely. "But we've all made mistakes, haven't we? And I doubt you would have been the devoted father you are today had you not regretted those quick insults. In the end, heated words spoken in anger do not define a man — choices do."

Corvo didn't pay much attention to my final words, his large hands tenderly cupping his daughter's face as his eyes darted between hers. "Listen Emily, I was afraid — your mother and I, we were young and stupid, okay. She had an empire to rule, a council to face. A child born out of wedlock, to a foreign father no less… it was unheard of-"

"It's alright, father, I understand." Emily wrapped her hands around his, awarding him a fragile smile.

Corvo shook his head. "It's not alright — sweetheart, it's the one thing I wish I could take back, my biggest mistake-"

"Matvey is right," she continued to smile that sad smile of hers, wistful eyes glimmering, "your remorse is testimonial of your love for me." She took in a shaky breath, squeezing his hands within hers. "But love, sometimes, means accepting what you'd rather not accept — no matter how much it frightens you."

Corvo looked down upon his daughter with growing tenderness, his thumbs stroking along her cheeks. "When did you become so much like your mother?" His voice was hoarse, loaded with warmth. Emily sniffled in response, closing her eyes when her father pulled her into his arms. He let out a trembling sigh, burying his nose into her hair. "I just want to protect you, you know that, right?"

She nodded against his shoulder, and I stood, watching. My eyes found Callista's, discovering she had been observing me, an unreadable look in her gaze. Her strange defensiveness gnawed at me, the unexpectedness of her support prompting me to reconsider all I'd thought to understand about her.

"And you!" Corvo spoke sharply as he pulled away from his daughter, a single reassuring hand remaining on her shoulder. I met his gaze, a sense of unease writhing beneath my skin. "Don't think I'm letting you off easy," he narrowed his dark eyes at me, the look menacing enough to worsen my steadily increasing anxiety. "One single misstep, any reason to think you're not to be trusted, and I'll send you howling straight back into the Void with more than just a bruised face."

I winced as I recalled the bone-crushing impact of his fist, the high pitch that had rang through my ears as my body had crashed into a wall. The thought was enough to make me feel sick — or perhaps it had been the wine?

Either way, vomiting across Corvo's boots had been the least embarrassing thing of the night.

* * *

"You're an asshole, do you know that?"

"Mhm," I hummed groggily as I rubbed my face, trying to ease some of the nausea, the grating sound of fabric being scrubbed further punishing my already sensitive ears. I opened my eyes, catching Corvo as he stared straight at me, hands busy cleaning the mess I'd created, the sharp smell of soap lingering in the air. Emily and Callista had taken his boots, cleaning them off somewhere, the full layout of Nadia's inn a complete mystery to me. Meanwhile I had allowed myself to drop back down onto the couch, my elbows propped against my knees as I'd rested my face in my hands, fighting the sickness that caused my stomach to convulse in an utterly revolting manner. "I'm never drinking again," I croaked from behind my palms, my fingers digging into my cheeks.

Corvo snorted, "first time?"

I nodded, closing my eyes to fight off another wave of nausea.

"You're a pansy."

I didn't bother to bring up Corvo's first time getting drunk; how he'd been reduced to a sobbing mess, blubbering on and on about leather prices and other irrelevant nonsense. "You're a good father."

He continued to scrub, the resulting noise almost loud enough to drown out my mental stream of nonsensical thoughts. "You're just kissing ass because you know you're a piece of shit yourself."

I raised my eyebrows, opening my eyes to meet Corvo's scowl. I wasn't quite sure what I'd expected to happen between us once he'd find out about his daughter and I, and right now I wasn't even sure whether I should be relieved or not at the lack of physical violence — a non-violent Corvo Attano was, in my experience, a chillingly dangerous one. "I think I made friends tonight," I confessed, glancing down to the newly stained carpet.

There was silence, the dying embers of the hearth softly crackling in the background, Corvo's hands pausing their task while still tightly gripping the piece of cloth. I looked back up to meet his stare, the fading glow of the fire dancing across his skin. "Did you blurt out their most hideous of moments for their loved ones to hear, too?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, pursing my lips as I considered his question with more thought than I should currently be capable of. "Seeing as they haven't threatened to take away the one thing I care about in this world; no, but we'll give it time."

Just then Emily and Callista made their return, their approach causing Corvo to grunt in response and avert his scowl, directing his attention back to the carpet, muttering to himself about pots and kettles.

* * *

The Royal Protector hadn't said anything when he learned Emily and I shared a room, something that only served to fill me with dread for what was to come the next morning. I knew he was holding back, the impact of my words tempering his scorn. Emily had taken it upon herself to guide and undress me, leading me towards the bed with exceptional care, her soothing caress alleviating some of the alcohol-induced sickness. She'd soon curled up next to me, wrapping me in her arms and whispering reassurances against my skin, promises of enduring devotion. I hadn't realised how much I'd needed to hear those words, and I blamed my sentimental state on my obviously poor tolerance.

Something else I blamed on my poor tolerance was the splitting headache that woke me up the next morning, the skull crushing pain hitting me with fresh waves of agony at every small movement. I was told — as soon as Emily was done laughing at me — that she herself had experienced her fair share of headaches following a night out, and that I'd be fine in a couple of hours if I was lucky. Her words did nothing to improve my mood. Something else that certainly didn't improve my mood was the obnoxious cat-calling as soon as we descended the stairs of the main hall.

"My, my, would you look at you, kid!" Lurk called from where she stood near the fireplace, an already moody looking Corvo sitting on the sofa, waiting, brooding. "All grown up and handsome as can be!" There was no such thing as volume control for this woman, and Callista — who visibly cringed at her side — appeared to agree.

Emily giggled beside me, causing my skin to heat and my face to flush — something I desperately tried to cover up with an annoyed scowl.

Billie smirked as we approached, her arm and half her face both securely bandaged and hidden from sight. "Heard you been sticking it where the sun don't shine."

My eyes widened at the comment, tension gripping the muscles in my back and shoulders, causing them to stiffen.

"Oh my, I was explicitly told they hadn't fu-"

"Nadia!" I shrieked, scowling at the old woman behind the desk, horrified at her lack of a filter, another wave of pain lashing through my skull. I anxiously looked over to Corvo, his cold glare directed straight at me, sending a fearful shiver down my back. I clenched my fists at my sides, my knuckles turning white from tension — or as white as my pale skin could get. Everyone was looking at me, their burning stares further scalding my already heated face. I was about to give in to my desire to flee through the front door when two strong arms wrapped around me, very much squeezing the life out of me.

"Come here, you," Lurk spoke as she wrapped me in a tight embrace, hitting my back in what I guessed was supposed to be an affectionate gesture. She took a step back then, raising her other hand to ruffle my hair, annoying me by further ruining the already messy strands. "It's good to see you, kid," she smiled warmly, before her lips pulled into an exaggerated frown, emulating a stern look. "Still got my gift?"

"Of course," I mumbled sourly, eyeing the bold woman with distrust — wary of her obvious lack of boundaries.

"Good," she grinned, roughly patting my shoulder for good measure. "You put some proper meat on those bones," she spoke approvingly, turning her satisfied grin towards the woman beside me. "You take good care of him?"

"The best he allows." I could clearly hear the smugness in Emily's voice.

Billie nodded, sporting an amused grin, her single eye travelling across our faces, until a sudden shift took place within its depth. She leaned in a little closer, whispering, "I'm sorry about Anton." Her eye continued to dart between the both of us. "Void knows the man was bad-humoured grouch with a drinking problem, but he was a good man." She had taken Emily's hand in hers, squeezing it consolingly, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"Let's go," Corvo grumbled as he stood, his back to us. I watched as he lumbered towards the door, raking a hand through his short hair as he let out a weary sigh. Callista followed without a comment, her hands tucked into her coat's pockets.

"You heard the boss," Billie raised her single eyebrow conspiringly, giving Emily's hand a final squeeze before turning on her heel, moving to join the pair at the door.

I glanced to my side, meeting Emily's gaze, an encouraging smile curving her lips as she took a step closer, her hand slowly wrapping around mine as she playfully bumped her shoulder into my own. "Come on, _handsome_ ," she grinned, teasingly, "let's not upset father any more than we already have."

The heat that had just started to simmer down flared right up again, my face probably flushing a vibrant red at her public display of affection — my brain completely ignoring the fact that we'd been much closer than this in public. But, I reminded myself, those people hadn't known us... that had been different, or so I tried to convince my own mind. She pulled me along, my gaze steadily pointed at my feet, growing increasingly self-conscious as we neared the others. Corvo opened the door for us, and I found Samara's chill pleasantly cooled my skin, a much needed relief after all of the embarrassment. The fresh air did wonders for my headache too, reducing at least some of its discomfort, every cool breath I took undoing some of the throbbing memory of last night.

"Matvey, was it?" Corvo's gruff voice came from somewhere beside me as we walked, startling me with his unexpected closeness.

"Yes." I tried to sound normal, composed, anything but the nervous idiot I currently felt like. Was I supposed to call him sir now?

"Hm," he grunted. "Tyvian?"

"Yes."

Emily squeezed my hand, something I was sure she meant to comfort me with, but instead it made me painfully aware of my increasingly clammy palms.

"Nora told me the three of you have been here for some time, is that right?"

Was he making small talk, or was he perhaps testing me in fatherly ways I simply couldn't understand? "Yes, it is."

He grunted again, and I dared a brief glance his way, finding him to be staring straight at me, my gaze quickly darting back down to my feet. "I have a lot of questions," he announced, "and I hope you'll be able to answer them properly sober this time." Then, he left as promptly as he'd appeared, his crunching footsteps growing more distant as he joined Billie and Callista up ahead.

Emily let out an offended snort, drawing in my attention, a defiant frown knitting her brow. "Welcome to the Attano family," she scoffed, jutting out her chin.

I chuckled, either out of amusement at her words or relief at Corvo's retreat, I didn't even know at this point.

* * *

Callista had wisely picked a café that would offer us enough privacy to discuss everything we needed to, choosing a lone table at the far end of the room, its location out of earshot of the surrounding customers. Corvo hadn't been too pleased with Emily taking the Empire's funds, but it seemed even he could understand... somewhat. We'd soon been served our breakfast, Lurk wasting no time as she immediately gorged down on the tasty meal. I found eating at least took care of dull ache that continued to throb through my skull, its pain slowly subsiding, offering me some much needed relief.

"Let's start with the three of you," Corvo got down to business right away, his stern gaze darting between ours, "what happened?"

I looked to Emily, attempting to ascertain her thoughts as I mindlessly fidgeted with my ring, Corvo's presence stifling the air, thickening the rush of blood in my veins. She met my gaze then, and she appeared to understand my silent plea as she parted her lips to speak. "The Overseers had figured out who Matvey was through a drop of his blood..." she started, eyes dropping to her breakfast, fork shuffling around a piece of food. "They ambushed us, hundreds of them assisting in our arrest. The High Overseer... he read the conviction, sentencing us to execution. We were marched to the Office of the High Overseer, and they held us prisoner there, within the interrogation room." She was concise, factual — the true memory of it captured in the gleam of her eyes. "They tortured-" her voice cracked, then, betraying some of the pain she stubbornly immured, "they tortured Matvey, continuously — I was convinced he wouldn't survive their treatment. They... they tried torturing me, once.

"It was horrible." She shook her head, a grimace twisting up her features. I pressed my leg against hers beneath the table, feeling the warmth of her skin through layers of fabric, offering her at least a small and discreet form comfort. She let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking to my face for a fraction of a second, a hint of gratitude in their golden depths. "It- I couldn't sleep for days after that, couldn't even drink. Matvey forced me to, he kept insisting I pull through even though it all seemed futile. Then, Callista came, one of the Sisters aiding her in breaking me out." She sent Callista a small, thankful, smile before she continued, her eyes darting down to her food again. "I refused to come unless they freed Matvey too... But he didn't want to. He believed that if he let himself be executed it would disprove the rumours the Abbey had started — clearing my name and returning me to the throne. I decided to make sure none of that would happen."

"A fool's act if you ask me," I couldn't keep the dissatisfied frown off my lips as I spoke, unable to keep from expressing my grievances.

"A fool who stopped you from throwing your life away," she chaffed, but the words lacked their usual bite, something darker and more sorrowful hiding between the notes of her voice. "We escaped, the three of us. We were headed for Callista's ship when we spotted Lord Heaton's party, his estate a beacon of light despite the Empire's lack of electricity. We sneaked in to search for Wyman, knowing them to be present, to find out where the Lord was drawing his power from. We soon discovered the Abbey was involved — and unfortunately we were found and captured again. The High Overseer was there, set on executing the both of us then and there, holding us at gunpoint. He made us dance to entertain the nobles..." she shuddered, a frown twisting her brows, her lips, as her guts probably twisted likewise at the memory, "the sick bastard gloated in our misfortune. Lucky for us, Wyman came to help us escape, supplying us with Whale Oil, allowing Matvey to use magic. We got out, and after rejoining with Callista we headed for the Tower. I left my message there — I'm happy you found it." She looked up at her father, pressing her lips together in a telling smile. "We set sail to Tyvia, and we've been trying to figure out what's wrong with the Whale Oil and what the Abbey's plans could be ever since."

Corvo reached out across the table, wrapping Emily's hands in his much larger ones, squeezing them affectionately. "I'm so happy, so relieved to see you've survived all that..." he rumbled, a sorrowful look shining in his dark eyes, a tortured frown further wrinkling his aged skin, "and I'm terribly sorry you had to live through it in the first place. I- I shouldn't have left you..."

Emily shook her head, her eyes glistening wetly. "If you had stayed," she spoke, "Matvey tells me I would have lost you."

This seemed to disconcert him as his frown deepened, his gaze flitting to me searchingly. "How does he know that?"

Emily hesitated, and I couldn't deny I felt my skin grow cold and my heart start to stutter in apprehension. "He knew everything."

Corvo sat a little straighter, looked at me a little sharper, and soon spoke a little angrier, "you're telling me he willingly let them take you? We could have figured out a plan-"

"No other plan would have ensured Emily's safe return to the throne _and_ your survival. None but mine," I challenged, glazed eyes avoiding his, tensely staring down at my single ring.

"I will not believe that," Corvo growled.

"Father," Emily interfered, "he knew Callista had friends within the Abbey, he's the one who had Sokolov write her, he was ready to be executed just to clear my name. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"He's here, isn't he? Alive? What if he knew that too, what if it was all a farce to get you in his arms and away from the throne?" He argued, his gesticulating shadow dancing across the wooden table.

"Sounds like a stupid plan for someone who kept insisting I shouldn't care for him at all," Emily bristled, an edge of finality to her voice.

A tense silence choked up the air, filled the empty spaces between us, until Billie spoke up, her words cutting through the heavy atmosphere, "she's got a point, old man."

"I agree," Callista added quickly, earning a baffled look from Corvo.

"Listen, Callista-"

"It's Nora."

"Nora..." Corvo corrected himself before continuing in a low whisper, "if you're doing this because I didn't write, then I'm telling you I'm sorry okay?"

"It's not about that," Callista spoke sharply, grabbing everyone's attention with her unusual indignation, another loaded silence stifling the air.

"I would have written," Billie said suggestively, her single eye sweeping across the other woman appreciatively.

I couldn't keep from weighing in, my tongue betraying me as it formed words I knew would do nothing to help my already questionable relationship with the Royal Protector. "I don't say this often, but it truly was an ass move, Corvo."

"I just apologised," he bit out, frustration reddening his skin.

"What's this about?" Emily's eyes shot between the three of us in confusion, begging for answers.

"It's not important," Corvo mumbled, rubbing his face wearily, "let's not get side-tracked from the actual issue at hand."

There was another short silence, followed by Emily clearing her throat before she spoke, "so?" She tipped her head, prodding eyes directed at her father. "What did you manage to uncover at Shindaerey?"

There was a tangible sense of relief in the way Corvo seemed to deflate at the change of subject, one of his hands running through his beard as he carefully recalled what had happened on their side. "Nothing good, that's for sure," he started, a grimness sweeping over him that mirrored his mood the night before. "Firstly, the Abbey is currently in charge of the Empire, ruling in your place. They weren't very pleased to see me at the Tower, and I figure they'd be even less pleased with my presence if they knew what I've witnessed; the Eyeless have been butchered, what survivors remain are being tortured for knowledge. The Abbey has laid siege of the Void, they're working on machinery — engineering what appear to be some sort of generators." It was a lot to take in, his cut and dry manner of recounting what they'd seen doing little justice to the staggering implications. "Meagan and I managed to infiltrate the quarry, salvaging what information we could find on Whale Oil and its connection to the Void — there was nothing, nothing we could understand at least. There was, however, mention of a ritual island within the Void, the Abbey was looking for it."

"The one Delilah found? Why would they..." Emily pursed her lips as she looked to me, her eyebrows knitting together in a thoughtful frown.

My heart had begun to beat a lopsided rhythm as my blood ran cold, a shiver coursing down my spine, rattling my nerves. Suddenly it all made sense, suddenly I understood their plans, their motivations, their goals. The blood had started to drain from my face as my hands turned to fists, the skin that wrapped across my knuckles pulled tight. "They want to resurrect the man who created me," I spoke, feeling as if I was watching myself from far away, the warm candlelight that lit the room unable to hide my pallor. "That's why they tortured me for his name."

All eyes shot to me in surprise, and Emily covered my hands in her own without second thought, her delicate fingers wrapping around my fists before speaking, "why would they want that?"

I ignored the probing stares of the others, my gaze trained on our joined hands, tracing the veins beneath her skin. "To control the Void." I looked up, locking eyes with her, my heart racing and mind reeling. "Think about it, if they can unearth the ritual that made me, they could create a god of their own choosing, the Abbey would be able to manipulate the _world_." I frowned, gaze darting across the perplexed faces of our table-mates. "They're already supplying people with their own corrupted source of power, if they control the Void they could become much more than what they already are — the greatest united force mankind has ever known. Spreading fear of a self-created and controlled threat."

"Why would you think they'd want that? You were the Outsider, you never served anyone." Corvo words were blunt, his tone doing nothing to hide their accusatory nature.

I turned my attention to him, moving to speak slowly, measuredly, everything to keep the painful ache in my chest out of my voice. "That's because the person in charge of my sacrifice was a narcissistic megalomaniac who let his own vanity rule his decisions. Fact is they picked the wrong person to sacrifice."

"Weren't you chosen by the Void?" Callista questioned warily.

I couldn't help but laugh, a bitter and hollow sound. "You think any of those prophecies are true? You think fish died and crops failed because I was the chosen one?" I snorted. "That's just what he told people. He orchestrated the whole thing to gain unconditional support."

"So who was he?" Corvo asked, then.

"It doesn't matter," I quickly brushed him off, "all that matters is they might have managed to find his name on their own, and when they find the island they speak of the Whale Oil will be the least of our problems."

"So what do you propose?" He tipped his head, obviously peeved at my covertness.

"We get there before the Abbey does."

I felt Emily's grip on my hands tighten, and soon she leaned forward to capture my attention, lips parting to speak, "wait, are you implying we resurrect the man?"

"I am," I confirmed, watching her worried frown deepen at the admission, the remainder of my implications left unsaid, knowing there was only one way this could end.

"Traveling back to Shindaerey would take weeks," Billie argued, crossing her arms, her obvious reluctance at the idea tangible in the very air around her.

"We're not traveling to Shindaerey," I leaned back in my chair, straightening my back as I spoke, "we're going to follow the whales."

* * *

Whales. In all my time within the Void they had been my sole companions. No other life had thrived within its vast endlessness — in fact, no one had managed to stay even remotely sane within its hungering depths. The Void corrupted all who remained in its toxic aerosphere for too long, their soul fractured like the very rocks that floated within its empty spaces — like the dark shard that still hummed against my skin reassuringly. Many had described the large mammals as soulful, otherworldly and beasts of magic, but it seemed none of the ancient cultists had mentioned them, none but my father. I was convinced it was the final missing piece, the key to the mystery surrounding the Whale Oil. Whales were the only beings to move between this world and the Void, freely. Could it be there was a crack only they could see? A way to move from one dimension to another? If so, all that had happened would make sense. If not, we would probably be doomed.

"How are you holding up?" Emily asked, the snow crunching beneath her boots, the rest of our little group following several metres behind as we headed for Lurk's ship. We'd told them about what had happened in the bathtub... at least, parts of it. We had not yet revealed how we'd triggered it, or the fact that we'd been in there, together, when discovering it.

"I'm fine."

"Matvey," she hissed, "you're talking about resurrecting your _father_ only to be able to murder him right after that. It's okay to not be fine."

"He's a dangerous man. It's the only way," I frowned, confirming her suspicions, hoping she'd drop the subject. I crossed my arms, lowering my chin behind the collar of my coat.

"You've taught me there's always another way, a different choice to make." She placed a hand against my chest, forcing me to stop walking, her pleading eyes searching mine.

"Not this time," I bit out, my lips pressed into a grim line.

"Anything the matter?" Corvo asked as they caught up with us, watchful eyes darting between his obviously troubled daughter and I.

I shook my head. "No, it's f-"

"Matvey! Violet!" A voice rang out from somewhere down the street, and we quickly managed to spot the familiar redhead to whom it belonged, flanked by his friends.

"Luka?" Emily squinted her eyes, the constant darkness making it harder to see. The group approached, and it didn't take me long to find Artur in their midst, his gaze predictably staring at the former Empress beside me.

"How are the two of you holding up? Bet you woke up to quite the headache, didn't you?" Luka slapped a hand against my shoulder as soon as he reached us, the impact hard enough to make me stagger forward. "I sure did," he grinned proudly, and I didn't miss the way his speech wasn't slurred like it had been the night before.

Emily giggled at my offended expression, soon directing a conspiring smirk towards the group, "Matvey puked all over my father's feet."

"Your father?" Artur spoke up, his eyes leaving Emily long enough to wander the unfamiliar faces that were with us.

Emily quickly placed a hand on Corvo's bicep, gaze darting between him and the group of friends. "Yes! Meet my father…" she paused, clearly about to improvise, "Marco."

I didn't miss Lurk's snicker at the poorly invented name, and Corvo sent his daughter a deadpan look before turning to Artur. The Royal Protector accepted the man's polite hand as Artur introduced himself and his companions, ending with a well-intentioned compliment about 'Marco's' lovely daughter and how nice it's been to meet her, of course. Billie took a step toward the group, sticking out a hand which Artur shook with rightful hesitance. "And my name's Meagan," she smiled, single eye meeting the Tyvian's gazes, "I'm Nora's lover from across the sea, I've come to enjoy some time with her and our lovely son." She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, forcing my head down to make up for the height-difference, my back awkwardly slouched beneath her forceful hold — despite the awkward position I didn't miss Callista's horrified look from the corner of my eye.

"Oh…" Artur appeared stunned, "Nora didn't mention a girlfriend?"

"Well, Nora's not one to brag, modest as she is." Lurk continued to smirk as I pulled myself out from beneath her arm.

"So where are you headed?" Luka turned back to Emily and I. "Because we were going to visit the local spa, you could join if you'd like?"

I immediately, and almost frantically, shook my head. "I don't think we-"

"I think that sounds wonderful," Emily beamed, quickly interrupting me.

I sent her a questioning look, bordering on indigence, "I really don't think it's a good idea right now."

"Nonsense," she smiled at me, "my father and Meagan just arrived, they could use some time to relax after having been out on the sea for so long."

"I don't like saying this," Corvo joined in, "but he has a point sweetheart."

"I agree with Violet," Billie countered quickly. "I'd love a relaxing afternoon to wind down, weeks on a boat with Marco over here has done little good to my sanity."

The words seemed to strike a cord with Corvo as he grumbled, mostly to himself, "who wouldn't shut up again?" He crossed his arms, a dark look in his eyes.

"I think I'll head back to the inn," Callista spoke, keeping a safe distance from all of us — something I could sympathise with.

"Nonsense!" Billie protested, her sharp gaze threatening enough to leave none of us any more room to decline. "You deserve some time to relax as much as the rest of us!"

Emily smiled at that, tipping her head, "I think Meagan is right, Nora."

Callista raised her eyebrows at her former pupil, a subtle smile betraying her amiability. "Of course, you would say that."

* * *

The spa was only a short distance away, a rather plain looking wooden building, sporting a long chimney from which large plumes of smoke curled their way into the freezing air. Our group consisted of eleven people, enough to fill up an entire room, or so we were told as we were appointed one just for us. We were also handed plenty of towels, and I had mournfully watched Emily leave into the women's changing room. I silently followed Luka, Artur and Filip, and it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise to me when they had started undressing as Corvo and I stood by.

"They didn't mention this spa was in fact a sauna," I sourly observed, clutching my own towel to my chest.

"What did you expect when they spoke of a spa?" Corvo replied without looking, his eyes too busy observing the small changing room. "A sanitarium?"

I glanced at the man beside me. "Humour has never been your strongest suit."

Corvo only grunted in response, already set on undressing himself, peeling away several layers of fabric from his battle-worn skin, his tan torso covered in old scars. I averted my eyes, fingers slowly unbuttoning my own shirt, trying my best to avoid looking at the other men in the room, hoping to prevent any awkward situations from happening and to escape their attentions. I turned my back to them all, removing my pants, wrapping the towel around my hips and feeling a sense of self-consciousness I had never experienced before — I honestly blamed Corvo's penetrative stare as even now he couldn't resist keeping a close eye on me. I reminded myself that I hadn't cared before, and that Corvo had seen more of me than most — which was a disconcerting thought on its own. But again, _this was different_.

"Ready?" Asked Filip as all of us finished up, our skins as white as the towels we had wrapped ourselves in — except for Corvo, of course, his trained and tanned physique putting the rest of us to shame... especially me. Lurk had commented on my improved health, my body less skin and bones than it had been before. Still, I was unusually thin, especially when stood next to Corvo, his robust shoulders and well-maintained arms further accentuating my considerably starved appearance. Filip led us all into a narrow hallway, revealing another door there, which we all passed through one by one. Corvo followed closely behind as I entered a medium-sized room, an almost overwhelming wave of heat and the sharp scent of pine both hitting me in the face. There were large, wooden benches placed against the walls along with a large stove, and at the centre stood a pit filled with stones, a bucket of steaming water paired with a ladle placed next to it.

There was another cat-call, and I immediately knew the culprit behind the mortifying action. "Well, well, my son!" Lurk called from one of the benches, her entire torso wrapped in a towel, a strange sight paired with her bandages. "Are those abs?" She continued, and I was surprised to see Callista at her side, equally covered and stifling a rather indiscreet chuckle. I frowned as I approached, quickly spotting Emily and Alena at the far left, my feet hurriedly carrying me towards them. I sat down next to the former Empress, shooting Lurk a threatening look, or as threatening as I could be wrapped in a towel, before directing my attention to Emily. Her presence comforted me, her nearness undoing at least part of my nervousness. She was about to say something when Corvo sat himself at my other side, looming over me, his mere presence causing the very air to press down on me.

"You're really skinny," Alena noted as her eyes shamelessly travelled across my body, making me far too aware of how the sweltering heat caused a layer of sweat to pebble along my skin, causing it to glisten within the candlelight.

"And you're really short," I returned, regarding her with a nonplussed look, not sure what her point had been in the first place.

Artur took place at said short girl's other side, his eyes widening at the sight of Corvo. "Those are a lot of scars!"

The entire room turned to Corvo, all eyeing his staggering collection of battle-marks. I felt him shift beside me, his body tensing, and it brought me a small sense of satisfaction to know he too felt nervous under scrutiny. "I entered the Blade Verbena when I was younger," Corvo spoke as he rested his back against the wall behind him. "Many times."

"That's amazing," Artur gaped, before turning to me. "I'd be scared to death if I were you," he whispered, his eyes darting between Emily and I.

I raised a single eyebrow at his words, feeling Corvo's oppressive presence at my side. "There are scarier things than death."

"I agree," Corvo rumbled as he dropped one of his arms across my shoulders, pulling me flush against him and further away from his daughter, his hand gripping me just a fraction too tight. "So what do you think, Artur — right?" Corvo turned to the young man without loosening his hold on me. "Has _Matvey_ done anything that would merit fear of me?"

"Father," Emily hissed disapprovingly, crossing her arms.

"I think he's been very nice to your daughter, sir," Alena smiled from next to Emily, who sent her an appreciative look, mouthing a quick 'thank you', before returning her attention to her father, sporting an annoyed frown.

"I suppose I should have expected you to interrogate our friends?"

"Interrogation is your dad's only way of making conversation," Lurk shrugged, earning a glare from Corvo. I used the distraction to peel his arm away from me, quickly shuffling back to Emily.

"Have any of you ever visited a sauna before?" Sabina asked curiously, changing the topic, something I mentally thanked her for. Most of us nodded, except for Callista and I. "Well, would one of you like to be the first to pour the water?" The girl smiled from her place next to Luka, his arm slung lazily across her shoulders. I shook my head, preferring not to be the center of attention.

"Of course," Callista nodded as Sabina reached for the ladle that rested atop the steaming bucket, smoothly dipping it into the water and filling it with a large serving before delivering it to Callista's waiting hands. I watched with muted interest as she lifted it, balancing it above the pit of smooth stones, carefully tipping it so a gentle stream flowed down. The stones hissed at the contact, large clouds of vapour quickly rising to collect along the room's roof, licking at the wood and slowly filling the air with a dense mist.

It was hot, almost unbearably so. I felt my skin flush as the room's temperature skyrocketed, droplets of sweat running down my neck and shoulders. The heat had a bigger effect on me than I had been expecting, throbbing veins swelling beneath reddened skin, my entire body soon gone heavy and limp. I allowed my eyes to wander across the others in the room, carefully observing their reactions, noting how most of them chatted on as if the temperature hadn't just increased a thousandfold. "I think I might die," I confessed to Emily, my head pounding again due to the suffocating warmth.

Emily chuckled, meeting my gaze with a contemplative look, an amused smile on her lips, "you'll get used to it."

Would I really? The thought was more intriguing to me than it should be. I leaned forward, turning my gaze past Emily, my eyes locking with Alena's. "You're a local, right?" I asked, receiving a nod in return. I licked my lips, considering my words, aware the question might be deemed strange. "Do you know of any local philosophers?"

"So you _are_ a philosopher!" She smirked, obviously priding herself in her false appraisal of the night before. I didn't refute her guess, instead sending her a curt nod, encouraging her to elaborate. "There is one," she offered with a casual shrug. "It's said she's even studied under the great Sokolov himself at one point."

"Semenov?" I offered the name, wondering if such a coincidence could truly be — from my experience, they definitely could.

"Yeah! You've heard of her?"

"She started on the Academy of Natural Philosophy back when Sokolov was its head still." 1831, the year I had marked Delilah — who had already been Sokolov's apprentice for 5 years by then. Semenov, on the other hand, had hardly managed to capture Sokolov's interest, or mine for that matter. She was nothing like Delilah had been, she possessed neither the cunning nor ambition — something I thought only for the best at this moment in time. "Where can I find her?"

Alena frowned in thought, a finger tapping against her chin as she considered the question. "I think she runs a hospice near the docks, you'd have to ask for her there."

I nodded. "Thank you," I spoke as I offered a small smile before righting myself again, noticing Emily's searching gaze from the corner of my eye. I turned my head to her as I rested my back against the wall, meeting her inquisitive stare, lifting the corners of my mouth into a reassuring expression. She mirrored my smile, her cheeks flushed and skin glistening, the sight of her causing my heart to flutter despite the pressing heat.

"So what's the story behind your scar?" Artur interrupted the moment, and it took me some time to realise he was asking me, not Corvo.

"Yeah, that thing looks dreadful," Filip added, him and Zima both staring from the other side of the room, his gaze unabashedly lingering on my throat, his words causing Alena to lean forward so she could get a better view.

I froze, feeling my muscles stiffen, my heartbeat picking up as it sent my blood to rush through my veins, its thrum filling my ears. They were all watching me now, their eyes poking through the surrounding steam, locking onto my exposed skin. My mouth went dry, my throat suddenly like sandpaper.

"He doesn't like talking about it," Emily placed a comforting hand on my arm, squeezing the limb.

"I suppose the heat makes it worse," Corvo mused, and I hadn't noticed his hand, his clean-cut nails, his fingertips as they traced along the raised flesh — stopping my breathing. The air around me went bone-chillingly cold, the room disappearing as all I could perceive was the memory of steel splitting skin and severing veins, of air that escaped before I could breathe it as blood flooded my lungs, my mouth — my throat — and I choked, I choked, I choked, as my hands itched to force me back together, to wrap around my neck, knowing full well my life would run through my fingers. I couldn't see anything, my eyes searching for anything but the vast blackness that consumed me, its horrifying emptiness threatening me, swallowing every last beat of my heart, every wheezing gasp that passed my lips, until there wasn't a single part of me left.

"Matvey," Emily's voice cut through the darkness, her hands flush against my skin, heat flooding through me at their touch. I breathed, a long, deep gasp for air, as the room swam back into view, the steam stinging my eyes, my throat. I turned my head to the side, towards a worried looking Emily, a serious frown creasing her skin. "Are you okay?" She asked, softly, as if too much noise might shatter me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but found no words would pass my throat as I continued to gape at her, my mind trying to wrap itself around what had just happened. There was another hand that gripped one of my shoulders, a larger, more calloused one, my head turning to meet its owner.

Corvo watched me with tense features, his already dark eyes further dimmed with contrition, looking out from beneath a disturbed frown, his lips pressed into a grim line. "I'm sorry," his lips uttered, his words nothing but a high-pitched ringing to my ears.

I blinked, averting my gaze, noticing everyone was still staring, a tense quiet filling the sweltering air. Swallowing, I straightened my back, eyes darting down to my hands where they rested in my lap, briefly tracing along my curled fingers before returning to Emily, finding some comfort in her reassuring presence. "What'd I do?" My voice was hoarse, its sound struggling to pass my lips.

She shook her head, "nothing," her smile was crestfallen and woefully lacking in its attempt to comfort me, "you just froze."

I nodded, some semblance of relief flooding over me at her words, washing away part of the horrifying shame that clung to my skin like the saline sheen of sweat.

"I'm really sorry for asking." Artur sounded genuinely remorseful, his eyes flitting between the floor and my face. I really didn't know what to say, the memory of my own death still hanging over me, the taste of my own blood still on my tongue, my mind rendered numb by the lingering torment.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone go as pale as you just did," Filip suddenly quipped, his amusement filling the air, drawing everyone's attention away from me.

"Filip!" Zima gasped, shoving his arm, an offended frown on her brow.

"I'm just saying!" He quickly raised his hands in defense, glancing between me and his girlfriend, trying to reason with the both of us through his imploring gaze.

"It's okay, Matvey," Luka smiled, "everyone has their issues. Filip, for example, faints at the sight of fishhooks."

There was a ripple of laughter at Filip's expense, his face growing increasingly red in response. "Try getting one stuck through your finger, alright?" He spat, crossing his arms with an offended huff, mumbling angry things to himself as Zima attempted to soften the blow to his ego. I found myself smiling despite myself, relieved none of them demanded to know more, all of them letting me be after that, even Corvo.

"I'll just go ahead and add some more water," Billie announced, ladle already in hand and ready to pour.

A kiss was pressed against my shoulder, my eyes meeting Emily's as she smiled up at me, her lips curving against my skin, her cheeks still flushed an endearing red. A sharp hiss followed in the background, and soon more steam wrapped its humid arms around us, embracing us until our blood was brought to simmer and our skin was soaked in its humidity. Emily had rested her head against my shoulder, allowing her eyes to fall shut as her fingers had woven themselves between mine. I had reclined myself against the wall, my gaze staring at the steaming rocks in front of us, trailing every curling wisp of vapour. Around me I caught the distant buzz of casual conversation, everyone engrossed in their own discussions. To my left, I had mostly been subjected to Corvo and Billie's bickering, interrupted by the occasional giggle from Callista, who wisely kept herself out of their line of fire.

Despite everyone's attempts to help me take my mind off the incident, from Luka's words to Emily's soothing touches, I simply couldn't forget the sickening twist of my stomach at the memory of steel slicing my skin, of features that mirrored mine gazing down upon me, dark eyes shining with what I could only describe as madness. What other way could there be, what other choice did I have than to make sure no one else suffered my fate ever again? I looked to Emily, noticing she had fallen asleep against my shoulder, her words and promises of the night before not having gone forgotten. Instead they continued to repeat themselves like a mantra, a promise of love, a promise of family.

But could I still belong to a family after willingly murdering part of mine?

* * *

We picked up our plan right where we left off before the interruption, parting ways with the exuberant group of Tyvians and continuing towards Lurk's ship. They had all insisted we join them again soon, explaining they visited the sauna every week as part of their traditions. Emily had nodded along happily, ensuring them we'd most likely run into them again soon. I wasn't too sure about her promises, and I was well aware why she'd wanted us to go to the spa with them in the first place — but it was only stalling the inevitable; I disliked the thought of staining my own hands with blood as much as her, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made to serve a greater purpose.

Corvo dropped a stack of dust-covered books on the table in front of me, scattering their powdery coating through the air. "Lurk took these from the Abbey, neither of us could read them. We figured you might," he spoke as Emily coughed from her seat, covering her mouth with one of her hands, squinting her eyes while a thin layer of dust settled around us. "Lurk was also incompetent enough to destroy some of their prized artefacts. I had to clean up after her and reckoned we might as well take them, too."

"This is my ship, you Serkonan rat," Billie threatened, throwing a pointed glare in Corvo's direction, "I can kick you off as easily as I allowed you on."

Corvo ignored her threat in a way that led me to believe he'd gotten used to them by now, and instead handed me what, at first glance, appeared to be a pile of rubble wrapped in tattered fabric. I carefully handled the fragile remnants of what looked to have been a ceramic object, its decorative paint peeling with age. Callista leaned closer from her place beside me, watching me uncover the remains with baited breath.

"These are written in old Tyvian," Emily noted as she inspected the first of the ancient tomes, nimble fingers attentively turning its yellowed pages.

"You understand it?" Corvo asked, expectant gaze darting between his daughter and I. He'd been observing me with renewed interest ever since we left the sauna, and I knew this went beyond me being with his daughter.

"Matvey has been teaching me," she explained, squinting down at a particular paragraph, its ink faded by the passing of centuries. "It's a manuscript," she observed as she thumbed through the contents, "and it looks like it's unfinished."

I turned one of the delicate shards between my fingers, gaze tracing trails of ancient paint, trying to detect what the bigger picture they once portrayed might have been.

"Man over Leviathan," Emily read, frowning down at the first page in concentration, her fingers outlining the words across its paper.

I squinted at a familiar symbol, raising the ceramic shard in front of me for closer inspection. It appeared incomplete, and I reckoned the rest of it had to be somewhere on another fragment. I looked down at the cloth in my lap, eyes trailing along every broken piece, trying to find the perfect fit for the one I held clenched between my fingers.

"I, prince of all Tyvians, Maxim Myronovich…" she continued to translate.

I pulled another piece from the pile in my lap, cautiously trying to see if it would fit the other one. I held my breath, gaze closely observing as the broken edges fit together like the pieces of a puzzle, mending as one to recreate part of the destroyed artefact, feeling my heart stutter at the sight.

"Killer of the Great Leviathan…"

There was a whale, its large eyes depicted with palpable soulfulness, its mammoth silhouette surrounded by a pod of considerably smaller ones. There were shapes depicted on either side of its back, and I recognised the symbols without effort, their familiar markings burned into my memory — burned across my skin as well as Emily's — as well as the twin-bladed knife that punctured its stomach, a river of blood pouring from its side.

"Architect of the reinventing of Gods…"

 _Your father was an exquisitely interesting man, was he not, Outsider? A true pioneer I suppose._

Artair Kinley's words came back to mind, ringing in my ears, mercilessly choking the air from my lungs. I sat back in my chair, taking a deep breath as I beckoned myself to remain calm despite the sickening worry that clawed at my gut. "What if humans were never meant to be the Void's representatives?" I questioned, unnerved, shaking hands lowering the pieces back into my lap, my gaze locking with Emily's, praying to whatever force there might still be that she would not have to pay for whatever gross mistakes my father had made. "What if we stole it?"


	20. Promise

"And there are trees, taller than Dunwall Tower, their canopy reaching across acres of shadow-cast lands, capturing all that lies beneath within their green domes," I smiled, my thumb trailing down Emily's cheekbone, enraptured eyes following its path. She mirrored my sunny expression, fingers trailing down my back, her bare chest rising and falling beneath me, every breath she took fanning my throat.

"And the animals?" She questioned, gazing up at me with unrestrained wonder, eyebrows raised out of curiosity.

I traced a finger across her lips, feeling her shiver beneath me, one of her legs rubbing against mine, its movement causing the blankets that covered us to shift. "It would be a near impossibility for me to describe them all, their appearances as unique and variable as the people in your Empire, if not more so," I paused, considering my words, my gaze darting between hers, my swooning heart thudding against my chest. "But I promise you — if the world allows it — to describe you a different species every day, for the rest of our lives, until your mind is filled to the brim with Pandyssian wildlife."

Emily grinned, teeth worrying her lip as one of her hands travelled up my arm, around my shoulder, and coming to rest against the nape of my neck. "I'd love that," she whispered, before pulling me down for another one of her tantalising kisses, her hips undulating against mine hungrily — despite the sheen of sweat that still clung to our skin from our earlier endeavours. My body responded to her nonetheless, the way her teeth grazed my lips reigniting the now all-too-familiar throb.

"We have to get out," I groaned against her lips as she coiled herself against me again, sending waves of electrifying bliss through me, my sensitive nerves set alight by her passion.

"What if I don't want to?" She whined, her tone dripping with need, one of her hands gripping my hips, pulling us even closer together.

I felt my eyes flutter shut, my breath released in a shuddery hiss as she continued to rub herself against me. "Your father might wonder what's taking us so long," I mumbled through several kisses, her tongue teasing my lips, eliciting several shivers.

"Let him wonder," she panted, arching her back, her breasts skirting along my chest. The hand that had gripped my hips traveled further down, slipping between our bodies and wrapping around my sex, guiding it towards her entrance, her touch alone nearly enough to finish me again.

"Emily," I spoke through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to give in, resisting her as her palm rubbed against me, "we really shouldn't."

"All the more reason why we should." Her other hand pulled me down again, her commanding lips capturing mine, wearing away at my resolve until I could no longer fight off my desire, my hardened length pushing through her hold and slipping inside her. She moaned against my lips, the sound drawing another desperate thrust from me, desire numbing my mind. My hands found hers, wrapping around her wrists and raising them above her head, my hips continuing to drive into her, soon moving with an uncontrolled vigour. She angled herself beneath me, meeting every thrust with a rolling buck of her own, sending waves of pleasure to ripple through my coiling muscles. I felt the pressure start to build, smothering my senses, leaving me desperate for release. Emily seemed just as eager as she writhed beneath me, lips parted as her breathing came out in heavy pants, new beads of sweat forming across her already glistening skin.

I left a trail of wet kisses and playful nibbles along her jaw, passion dictating my every action, her eager reciprocation drawing a sharp gasp from me as I felt myself come undone, my trembling muscles tightening beneath my heated skin. I felt my hold on her wrists weaken, my laboured breathing and racing heart causing my chest to heave. She followed soon after, legs wrapped around my hips, their hold tightening into a powerful squeeze as her body trembled beneath mine. She released a small whimper, her head rolling back in her pillow as she panted. I allowed myself to collapse next to her, wrapping my arms around her torso, pulling her into my hold as I fought to catch my breath.

Until we froze at the sound of three loud knocks at our door, followed by a commanding; "Stop fucking and get down — I'm hungry!"

I simply gaped at the door with something akin to mortification, my widened eyes left unblinking. I was perfectly aware what Billie's Sliver of the Eye was capable of... I knew it could see through walls and- Emily burst into a fit of laughter, her entire body shaking within my arms. My eyes flicked down to the amused woman, noting her flushed cheeks and glistening eyes, and honestly, it really wasn't that funny — was it?

* * *

"Took you long enough." Lurk pushed herself off the opposite wall as we exited our room, the both of us freshly cleaned and dressed. I eyed the former assassin with distrust, cautiously observing her features, silently wondering just how much- "Don't flatter yourself, kid." She briefly threw up her hands before crossing them. "I wasn't spying — don't need to; your paranoid face says it all." She let out an amused snort at her own words, shaking her head as she grinned to herself.

"Why were you waiting?" I asked, directing an offended scowl at the dark-skinned woman, resisting the urge to cross my own arms in defence.

"Like I said," she clucked her tongue at me, "to see your face."

My scowl deepened as I felt blood rush to said face again, my back straightening and my teeth burying themselves into my cheek. At my side I caught Emily's chuckles, the situation still very clearly amusing to her.

"Oh, come off it." Lurk waved a hand. "Can a mother be proud of her son?"

"You're not my mother."

"Nuh-uh!" She wiggled a finger at me. "I delivered you back into this world, don't you forget that."

I narrowed my eyes, finally giving in and crossing my arms sullenly. "Actually, it was Daud who did the brunt of the work, you were more like an accompanying nurse; mostly there to spew meaningless words of encouragement and offer poorly conveyed pep-talks."

"Sounds like parenting to me."

"Weren't you hungry?"

"Yes! And you must be too, satisfying a woman can be exhausting, I know." She winked — or blinked; it was hard to tell with her having only one eye, but the intended effect was palpable — as she wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards the stairs, my own arms uncrossing themselves. "I really mean it," she continued talking, "I am proud, kid."

"Of what?" I frowned down at her, noticing how Emily took one of my hands into her own, weaving her fingers through mine.

"The two of you!" Billie exclaimed as we walked. "Watching the both of you pine over each other was dreadful." My eyes found Emily's, unable to hide my look of surprise as Billie's observation hit home. The former Empress offered me a charming smile and a shrug, her cheeks noticeably flushed. "Besides," Lurk kept on speaking, "you're a sleep-talker, did you know?"

I froze, horrified, trying to recall when she had been with me while I slept — remembering we'd shared a bed, once, the dream I'd had that night still etched into my mind and... I blanched.

"It's true," Emily admitted, "you tend to talk about your shoes a lot."

I opened and closed my mouth several times, my gaze darting down to the shoes in question, their worn leather having withstood centuries — what else had Emily overheard me speak of in my sleep? Had I let something slip without even knowing? She bumped her hip into mine playfully, drawing my attention back to her beaming face.

"I think it's cute." She tipped her chin, crinkling her nose as she grinned up at me.

I frowned at her, shaking my head in disapproval. "You're not supposed to call the enemy of the Isles 'cute'." We had reached the stairs, and — much to my relief — Lurk finally dropped her arm off my shoulders.

"If by the Isles you mean 'Marco'," Billie snorted, glancing our way as she descended the stairs, "then I agree. It's a dangerous pursuit."

* * *

We sat at the same spot as the day before, away from the other people enjoying their breakfast. Emily had picked the seat next to mine, something Corvo didn't seem too pleased with as he continued to scowl at me from across the table. There were two fingers, trailing along my thigh, tracing circles across the fabric of my pants. I knew who they belonged to, Emily's face a perfectly neutral mask as she chewed her food. The grip on my fork tightened, my jaw clenching and unclenching as the two digits continued to distract me.

"So, if I understand correctly," Callista spoke from her place next to Corvo, "you'll be visiting this… Semenov, was it?"

"Yes," I replied, as smoothly as I was capable while Emily's fingers had started to walk themselves up my leg, causing my pulse to pick up in response.

"I'll join you," Corvo announced. "The others should continue their search for information at the library, limited as it is — we might get lucky."

Had my eyes still been black, I would have rolled them. Instead I squashed the urge, rather focusing on keeping my face neutral as Emily's fingers travelled dangerously close to my- I quickly grabbed the offending limb, halting its approach, my heart stuttering in my chest. If she'd been surprised she didn't show it, her gaze still focused on her plate of food. Her treacherous touch was leaving my pants tighter than it had been, and I felt annoyed at my body for betraying me. Leaning closer to her, I hovered near the shell of her ear, the rich scent of her hair filling my nose.

"Watch it," I warned in a deep whisper, "don't start any games you can't finish."

She turned a narrowed eye on me, a smirk on her lips. "Oh trust me," she whispered back, "finishing it won't be a problem." She brought her fork to her mouth, her tongue darting out to taste the food on it — like she'd done only several days ago — her pink lips slowly wrapping around it, prompting me to hold my breath as my eyes continued to stare. I felt my skin heat at the sight, her smouldering gaze never leaving mine. I hadn't noticed how my grip on her wrist had started to slip, her hand suddenly continuing its path, fingers quickly slipping between my legs. I choked on my own breath, my knee bumping into the table as I startled at her sudden boldness.

"What are you even doing?" Corvo's indignant grumble interrupted my coughing, drawing my widened eyes to his scowling features. I straightened my back, gaze darting between the staring faces that surrounded me, feeling the tell-tale burn of embarrassment at the tips of my ears.

"I... had an itch?" I intertwined my hands in front of me, pressing my lips into a thin line as I tried to keep a straight face. Next to me Emily appeared unable to contain her amusement, bursting out into a fit of laughter, most likely at my expense. Corvo continued to scowl at me, his gaze briefly darting to his daughter.

"What seems to be so funny?" He asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

"It's none of your concern, father," she replied, raising a single smug eyebrow before returning her attention to her food. Corvo's deadpan look was enough to make me shift in my chair uncomfortably, relieved to find my skin had cooled and my pulse had calmed, at least.

"Violet, I think you ought to join Meagan and Nora at the library, prevent any more..." his eyes darted between the both of us, "distractions."

"If you want some private time with my beloved, you could just ask." Emily shrugged, popping another bite into her mouth, clearly not in the mood for her father's obvious dissent regarding the two of us. She sighed, then. "It's fine, I wanted to run by the goldsmith anyway," she paused, regarding the both of us with a pleading look, "just try not to kill each other."

* * *

Not killing each other was easier said than done, it turned out, as Corvo still appeared especially furious about what had happened the night of his return. To make matters worse, Emily's indiscretions at breakfast had only added further fuel to the fire — I knew the accusatory look in his eyes, the expression of a man who thought his daughter corrupted by an immoral deity. Like always, his and his many predecessors' scorn was sorely ungrounded; if anything his daughter was corrupting me. Something Callista hadn't hesitated to point out, too. His assumptive attitude made me feel particularly petty, and I reminded myself to live up to his expectations next time — let him have his self-fulfilling prophecy. Emily had chosen me, and I had nothing to apologise for in that regard; I'd given her plenty of chances to change her mind. Now, Corvo's disapproval only served to irritate me, the distant flicker of yearning for his acceptance forcefully shoved to the back of my mind.

"The two of you were rather late this morning." Corvo's talents for observation were a marvel, as always.

I arched a single brow, my hands joined behind my back, my eyes trailing the blanket of snow that covered the streets, crunching beneath our feet. "I suppose the Royal Spymaster never wanes in his devotion to his job."

"Don't get smart with me."

"I meant no disrespect." I turned to meet his scowl, unfazed by his temper. "After all, we're family now, aren't we?"

"I'll never be your family," he bit out.

I lifted my chin as I regarded the man beside me with interest, knowing him to have never cared much about neither the gospel of the Abbey nor the delusional beliefs of heretics. "Other than what you've been taught, do you have any arguable reasons for your dislike of me?"

He crossed his arms. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

I continued my probing, feeling increasingly curious. "Do I stand accused of what I did, or rather, what I did _not_ do?"

This seemed to strike a chord with the Royal Protector, his searing gaze narrowing as he spoke through gritted teeth, "I'll tell you this: everywhere you go, death follows.

I frowned at the accusation, my gaze darting down the snow-covered streets again. "Everything that lives, dies — it's a rather common occurrence, it wouldn't be fair of me to take all the credit."

I didn't need to see Corvo's face to know he watched me with a particularly offended look. "Asshole."

I didn't respond to the insult, instead biting the inside of my cheek as I considered our relationship, if I could call it that. "I'll agree Wyman was a much more compliant suitor." I continued to gaze off into the distance, recalling their sunny features, their easy smile. "Generous… amiable and from a well-off family."

"You know I don't care about that."

I was aware he didn't, but I found telling myself he did was easier than acknowledging his actual problems with me. "I don't really have a lot to offer, I'm aware. I own nothing, I have no actual family or even a real identity outside of what I was. I know a lot — about history, humanity. But such things don't interest the people of an Empire, do they?"

I could see him pinch the bridge of his nose from the corner of my eye, finding myself unsurprised when he released a deep sigh. "Does my daughter ever get tired of your talking?"

I shrugged. "I think she likes it when I talk." Frowning, I briefly considered my own observation, realising it rang truer than I would have ever expected it to. "She seems to like a lot of things I dislike about myself."

Corvo appeared all too eager to pick up on the subtext of what I was saying. "You don't like yourself?"

"Why would I?" I returned, looking up to meet his gaze, noting how my sincerity seemed to throw him off, at least.

"Yet you insist on pursuing her?" His frown deepened, its coldness hanging in the air between us.

"She insisted — well, sort of, if you forget about that one time I kissed her, which was an accident, and I did apologise, profusely-" I shook my head. "But I digress, can you blame me for giving in?" I paused, trying to find the appropriate words, trying to not be intimidated by his snide remarks. "I'm just a man."

His eyes swept me up and down, a look of muted distaste briefly crossing his features. "Don't remind me."

I bit my tongue, swallowing whatever I felt at the words. I straightened my shoulders, taking a quick breath, my fingers finding the cool steel of my ring, mindlessly twisting the object. "My mother… she once told me a person's worth isn't defined by what they own or what background they hail from, but by the intent they carry within their heart." Glancing in Corvo's direction, I noticed the way he tensed his jaw in anger, his hands clenched to fists in front of his chest.

"Good for you," he deadpanned.

We didn't talk after that, the docks already in sight. Corvo had stopped some people to ask for directions — lucky for us they seemed familiar with the hospice, and by extension, Semenov. It didn't take us long to find the small building, its wood painted a striking blue. Corvo pushed against the door, holding it open for me, his eyes glued to my face in a way that left me increasingly uncomfortable. We were immediately greeted by a seemingly busy woman behind a desk, her dark hair tied into a neat bun and her eyes hidden behind the glint of her glasses.

"Can I help you?" She asked, a polite smile on her lips as her hands stopped their work, a stack of papers resting in front of her.

Corvo walked ahead of me, approaching the desk without hesitation. "We're looking for Doctor Semenov?"

The woman nodded, gaze darting between the two of us. "Doctor Semenov is a very busy woman, as I'm sure you'll understand, I hope you won't mind waiting a bit? I'll let her know you're here, sir...?" She tipped her head in question.

"Marco, and no, not at all," Corvo smiled in response, before he allowed his eyes to search the room, landing on a set of chairs that had most likely been put there for the specific act of waiting. He steered himself towards them, crossing his arms as he sat himself down, bouncing one of his legs impatiently — something I was certain he wasn't quite aware of as it could be considered quite rude. I joined him, resting my hands in my lap, allowing my gaze to travel around the room, its wooden interior decorated with many hand-drawn posters about health and human anatomy — souvenirs from the academy, most likely. There was a large hearth, like most Tyvian houses, warming the room, its heat leaving me uncomfortable within the thick insulation of my coat.

I found time, when observed by human senses, could vary greatly in its pace. Right now, for example, as I sat next to the father of the woman I adored, his surly presence overbearing in its contempt against me, it passed by agonisingly slow. Sometimes people would join us, only to be called in by one of the working doctors. There were adults, some carrying a child in their arms, red-cheeked and coughing, or sometimes asleep. I watched them all with interest, fascinated by the normalcy of their lives. I wondered what it might be like, to be a father. I had never seriously considered the thought, and I wasn't sure I was even capable of such a thing. I certainly hadn't had the best of role-models, but then again, I was just one of many growing up with a lousy parent. I really wasn't too special in that regard.

"Doctor Semenov will see you now," the woman behind the desk announced, startling me out of my thoughts. Corvo stood from his chair, glancing down to see if I followed. I took a deep breath first, squaring my shoulders as I raised myself, moving to trail behind the Royal Protector. We were led through a small hallway, its wooden walls lined by several doors, each with a name attached to it. We were appointed the final door on the right, and, as expected, it had the name 'Dr. Anna Semenov' written on it.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Corvo grumbled my way as his hand wrapped around the doorknob. I swallowed, my mind going over everything I needed to know and already knew before nodding in response. Corvo's wrist turned, the heavy door swinging open with a soft creak. The familiar huff and puff of steaming machinery greeted us, the soft buzz of flickering lights filling the air. It was a strange feeling, to leave the world of soft candlelight behind, the electric lanterns casting the room in a sharp brightness that I had found myself to have grown unaccustomed to.

"Welcome," Semenov spoke from a table at the back, paperwork strewn about its surface. Behind her was an examination table, surrounded by all sorts of equipment. "You'll have to excuse the set-up — with the Whale Oil gone we've had to adapt to the best of our abilities." She turned to us, her dark hair pulled in a messy bun, her lithe frame hidden beneath a much too large coat, its pockets stuffed with tools. "How can I help you?" She approached, taking off a pair of thick, protective gloves, moving to shake hands.

Corvo took a step forward, his large hand dwarfing hers as he accepted it. "Name's Marco," he introduced himself, sending the woman a brief smile to which she nodded. Releasing Corvo, she turned to me, already sticking out her limb in greeting. I knew she'd sense something wrong with me, even Alena had, and I couldn't take the risk.

"Sorry, I don't shake hands," I explained as I kept them hidden behind my back, watching Semenov's brow pucker in confusion. "Germaphobe." I tipped my head, forging an apologetic smile.

"Well, that's alright." She returned her hands to her sides, eyes travelling mine with interest.

"My name is Matvey, and I'm a student at the Academy. Me and my family were passing through town, and when I heard you worked here I couldn't pass up the opportunity to exchange some ideas."

"I see," Semenov nodded, rubbing her hands together and raising her chin. "Well I'm honoured, what subjects do you specialise in?"

"Etiology, or Causality, mostly," I replied smoothly, quickly taking control of the conversation, "right now I'm actually most interested in the response and limitations of the human physiology when exposed to sub-zero waters."

"An interesting topic." She raised a hand to rub her face, fingers grasping her chin in thought. "Living here, I'm sure you mustn't be surprised I'm quite familiar with the subject. Children often end up adrift, sometimes even adults. Most of them drown."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"I'm not too sure," she admitted. "It's been confirmed hypothermia usually doesn't set in for approximately 30 minutes after the subject has been submerged — with rare cases having lasted up to an hour — still, many people drown before that, usually within the first few minutes." She took a quick breath, and I didn't miss the subtle way her features tensed at the words, a flicker of hurt in her eyes. "I suspect it's the body's response to the cold that causes the subject to literally freeze up, leaving them incapable of swimming."

I nodded, shifting my weight as I considered her words, feeling Corvo's watchful gaze burn into me. "So hypothetically, if the initial shock could be precluded, one would have an estimated total of 30 to 60 survivable minutes within the water?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Then here's a theory," I continued, my gaze trailing around the room as I mentally roamed across my thoughts, "could the human body be conditioned to withstand conditions of extreme cold? Thus enabling a person to swim in freezing temperatures for an accumulated maximum of 60 minutes if they so wanted?"

Her hand travelled to the back of her neck, rubbing the skin there. "I- I'm not too sure. So far we know cold leads to vasoconstriction, limiting the blood-supply to the muscles and causing a direct decrease in strength, combined with a reduced coordination due to involuntary shivering."

"Except, when conditioned," I quickly followed up, "the threshold for both vasoconstriction and shivering would be lowered, stalling their occurrence as the body's core temperature would take longer to drop."

"Theoretically, yes, but none of this has ever been put into practice — I couldn't make any definitive statements on the matter."

I nodded in understanding, carefully digesting the information she'd been able to supply me with, aware that if my theory didn't work out we'd be in serious trouble. "Well, the start to answering any question has always been asking it in the first place, has it not?"

"I agree," she smiled, reluctantly, her eyes staring into mine, causing me to feel increasingly self-conscious.

I really didn't want to linger any longer than absolutely necessary, her knowledgeable gaze much too observant for my likes. "Thank you, doctor, talking to you has been most enlightening."

"The pleasure was all mine..." she replied, hesitating a moment before continuing. "I do have to ask; your eye-colour, it's most unusual, does it run in your family?"

"On my mother's side." I was curt in my reply, offering the woman a tight-lipped smile before turning to Corvo, quickly initiating our departure.

* * *

"It's a suicide mission."

"It's the only way; sailing to Karnaca would take too long. The Abbey already knows too much, and it's only a matter of time before they find what they're looking for," I contested, frustrated with Corvo's continued resistance.

"Then you're on your own. I won't have you endangering my daughter unnecessarily."

"Unnecessarily?" I spat, unable to believe my ears, frankly not giving a shit about keeping my voice down as we wandered one of the calmer parts of town. "We're talking about the end of the world as we know it — and since my place in the Void was already a questionable one, which, per my removal, has left it undeniably unstable, a repetition of my creation might destroy whatever fragile equilibrium remains."

"These are all theories," Corvo argued, "you have no solid proof — for anything, in fact."

"You saw their machines, you know of the ravaging storms that now devastate the Void. You've been witness to them harnessing the very energy that is bound to destroy us all." If Corvo hadn't been much stronger than me, I probably would have throttled the impossible man — even now it took me all I had to resist the urge.

"None of this is for certain. If you really cared an inkling about my daughter you wouldn't even consider involving her in such dangers."

"I love her, more than anything," I bristled, overcome with indignation. "Which is why I cannot lose her, why I need to stop this — for her." I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, fully aware arguing with the Royal Protector had never gotten anyone anywhere. "But I can't do this alone."

"You've been alone for longer than you've been with her, I'm sure you'll manage."

His words scalded me, and in response I felt my self-control start to slip. "Don't you talk to me about managing!" I snapped, coming to a sharp stop.

Corvo halted several steps ahead of me, turning around to face me fully. "Yes, you're a real victim aren't you? The smug God who plays his twisted little games with the lives of people as if they're interchangeable — how lonely it must have been to sneer down on society all by yourself."

I gritted my teeth, my fists clenched at my sides and my head cocked in defiance. "Death means nothing when it's all you feel," I sneered, coldly, before turning away from the Royal Protector, the suffocating memory of existing within the abyssal horror of the Void clutching at the edges of my mind, leaving its icy marks throughout my consciousness.

And so I walked.

* * *

The cold spray of sea-foam left a layer of glittering drops along my pants, the dark, rolling waves wrecking their uncontrolled havoc in front of me. Through the roaring of their violence, I could still hear them, the whales that continued to call for me. A storm was coming, the overhead clouds brewing with thunder, roiling with power. The Void was beating its bloody way into this world, taking with it whatever lied in its destructive path. Soon, the Tyvian darkness would spread across the Isles, not a single ounce of light left to illuminate the weeping skies. The Void would devour this world, its insatiable hunger the end of all the beauty it contained. At least I was certain about that much. At least that I understood. There was a crunch of snow behind me, followed by the rustling of clothes. I continued to stare at my feet as they dangled above the water, the stone edge I occupied allowing me to gaze along the endless seas ahead. Two feet joined mine in the air, the warm touch of a thigh reminding me of the cold that had progressively eaten away at me.

"I'm not in the mood for another discussion," I mumbled, frowning down at the other pair of legs, eyes trailing along the edges of the owner's leather shoes.

"Why do you think I'm here for one?" Callista asked, folding her hands in her lap.

I shrugged. "It's what I've come to expect of you."

She remained silent for a short moment, and I could feel her eyes where they traveled across my features. "I've heard about your plan."

Of course she would have, chances were she'd heard a lot more than just my plan. I tried my best to not let Corvo's words affect me, to bury them in the guilt-ridden graveyard that was my moral conscience. But they had left more damage than I'd ever like to admit, and even though I tried my best to convince myself I didn't know why, I found myself painfully aware of its exact reason. "During my first years in the Void..." I spoke, my eyes staring off into the darkness, "the agony I experienced was overwhelming — consuming me was the sickening feeling of not being quite... right, as if something horribly wrong has nestled inside of you, slowly eating away at your sanity. I no longer had skin, muscles or tendons — yet I felt constricted, suffocated; as if I might be brought to rupture from the inside out." I glanced down at my hands, the soft glint of my ritual ring bringing back some of those agonising memories. "When I first marked someone, something that happened by complete accident, some of that anguish ebbed away — as if a stream had been carved, stopping me from overflowing, allowing some of the destructive magic that ravaged my metaphorical husk to be released. The more people I marked, the less magic I myself possessed. It was freedom, relief. But who do you entrust with such power?"

Callista remained silent, and I mentally thanked her for it. I took a deep breath, feeling the pressure that weighed down on my chest continue to build.

"At first, I was naive enough to believe I could judge someone's character just by observing them, keeping track of their decisions, their actions. When I deemed them fit to handle the responsibility, I marked them. Turns out... power changes people. The most selfless of samaritans can become a tyrant under the right circumstances. I was proven wrong... many, many times. It ate away at me, ripped whatever idealistic and hopeful parts remained within me to shreds. I tried not gifting my mark, but my mind was all I had left, all which hadn't been taken from me; I couldn't stand to lose that too — I couldn't bear it. The fear of the Void consuming who I was rendered me desperate for a way to stay sane. So I allowed myself to become increasingly cynical, until it all just turned into a meaningless game to me. Human lives passed in the blink of an eye, and their arguably pointless squabbles seemed increasingly irrelevant in the light of my own immortality...

"I never wanted power... control. Helping one person is always bound to disadvantage another — I didn't want to pick and choose. No matter what I did, there was never a way for me to win." I glanced to my side, pausing as Callista nodded in understanding, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"I cannot pretend to understand such a thing," she admitted, eyes meeting mine, watching me in that indecipherable way of hers.

"The human psyche isn't meant to understand."

She surprised me by softly bumping her leg into mine, sending me a tight-lipped smile. "I suppose you didn't turn out too bad, then."

I felt a wry smile pull at my lips, my gaze turning back to the sea of black in front of us. "Tell Corvo that."

"Corvo is just..."

"I know. He can't bear to lose those he loves, not again," I finished for her.

"He means well." There was a weight to her words that implied I wasn't the only one she was trying to convince.

I turned my gaze back to her, observing her profile as she stared off into the distance. "He never could have made you happy, you know that, right?"

She let out a soft sigh, her features betraying nothing of her true, innermost feelings, a stark contrast to Emily's expressive countenance. "I'm starting to see that, yes."

I frowned, for who I wasn't quite sure, the hands in my lap curling around each other. "It's not that he doesn't want to, he just can't."

She nodded, glancing down at her own hands before returning her eyes to my face. "He's a good man..." There was something strange about her words, something that unsettled me, the anxiety I had come here to forget quickly making its unwelcome return.

"I can't do it alone," I blurted, averting my gaze, shaking my head. "I can't." I wasn't sure if my words were even meant for anyone but myself, their echoes effectively drowning out every single one of my thoughts. "I'll panic, I'll shut down, I'll ruin it — I'll fail everyone."

"Hey," Callista leaned forward, gaze grabbing my attention, her stern eyes darting between mine, "you will find a way. No human will ever have to experience what you did again, we will all make sure of that — I promise."

* * *

"Do you remember, the first night you spent at the Tower?"

I nodded, feeling Emily's hair tickle my chin, like her fingers tickled my chest, tracing circles above my heart as the hearth's fire warmed us, the glint of my ring on her finger catching my eye. The couch was a tight fit, but we'd managed to wrap ourselves around each other in a way that allowed us to lie together.

"You fell asleep in my bed — I couldn't bring myself to wake you," she admitted, and I could hear the rueful smile in her voice. "I honestly couldn't have predicted how much I'd come to regret that decision."

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling a flicker of guilt at having placed her in such a position. "Because of Wyman?"

She shook her head. "No, not because of them." The admission surprised me, and I felt my heart stutter within my chest as I held my breath in silent anticipation. "Truthfully, it was your scent... it clung to my sheets, my pillows — it drove me insane! Yet I couldn't bring myself to replace them. There was something addictive about it; its sweetness invaded even my dreams, turning the warmth of my blankets to the warmth of your arms, the softness of my pillows to the softness of your chest. I could almost pretend you were there with me, almost — but not quite. Being with you in person quickly became the strangest torture; all I could think about was how your arms would actually feel, wrapped around me, how firm your chest might be beneath my cheek... I'm sorry if that sounds a little strange."

Her words pelted down on me, digging themselves beneath my skin where they settled and formed new tissue, a new me. "You... thought about me like that?"

She giggled, raising herself to look me in the eye, a playful smile on her lips. "It surprises you?"

"Yes," I admitted without second thought.

"Why?" She asked, tipping her head, folding her hands beneath her chin as she adjusted herself against me.

I threaded my fingers through her hair, my eyes following the dark strands as they flowed through the digits. "I don't know. I just never thought you would." How much of what she'd done and said had I misinterpreted just because I didn't want to believe it? "I didn't think you would find me likeable... or attractive." Turns out there were a lot of things I didn't know. I licked my lips, trying to find the courage to ask my next question. "In the prison... did I talk in my sleep?"

Emily's smile faded, a darker, more serious look quickly transforming her features. "Not at first." Her voice was soft now, as if the memories behind those words could be shushed away somehow, ignored in favour of happier times. She let out a shaky breath, her gaze darting across my face, observing every little detail. "It started after I was tortured... you would call out in your sleep, always apologising, repeating over and over how sorry you were. For a while I was certain it was all a scheme to regain my trust — for what purpose I honestly couldn't imagine." She bit her lip, the firelight reflecting off her teeth. "Whenever you were awake, there was this strange sense of resignation in your eyes, as if you didn't fear your impending death, or mine for that matter. Yet your fitful sleeps told an entirely different story, and I quickly began to realise you were hiding something — you had to be. But I didn't dare get my hopes up in fear of having them crushed, so instead I decided to follow your example and resign to our fate, silly as that might sound." She fell silent for a moment, and I assured myself I hadn't imagined the fleeting despair that had swept across her features. "I'm really, really sorry about telling them your weakness... and for being so cruel to you."

I stroked my thumb along her face, mesmerised by the rich colour of her skin, the softness of her cheek. "You did what you thought was right by the information you possessed, I never once faulted you for any of it." I meant the words. I understood why she had done what she did perfectly, and I hadn't thought of her with even a sliver of anger or contempt.

"This is a public space," Corvo's rumbling voice arose from the stairs, "the two of you should act accordingly." His footsteps grew steadily louder as he descended the steps.

I met Emily's gaze, her eyes ablaze with carefully contained ire towards her father, the damage left by their earlier spat still fresh — I'd only found out about it once Callista and I had returned, and Emily had seemed unusually tight-lipped regarding the situation. I tipped my head back, allowing my own eyes to lock onto Corvo's approaching form, his scowl much less frightening when viewed upside down. "We are," I replied, my own frustration with the man meaning I didn't really care what he thought of me anymore, "trust me, I'm not dressed for my own enjoyment."

* * *

Despite Corvo's continued objections, Emily had insisted she and I work together — promising me she'd be there for me, no matter what her father thought of it. Her words had left me more confident, some of my self-doubt eased away by the pledge of her assistance. Using the bathtub at the inn, we submerged ourselves in the coldest water available — which was already dreadfully frigid and thus left me increasingly apprehensive of actual freezing water. I also learned cold water could lead to some rather unflattering situations, much to Emily's undying amusement — though I didn't much mind her laughter at my expense; not if that meant her cheeks would flush an adorable pink, and her eyes would light up with unabashed merriment. I didn't tell her that, of course, because I also didn't mind her ways of making up for her shameless glee. In the end, we never stayed cold for long, our bared skin quickly warmed by touch alone, our lungs left painfully out of breath and our bodies always completely spent.

It all became its own strange routine, one everyone settled into with staggering ease. Every morning we had breakfast together, during which Corvo would spend most his time scowling at me — something that made taunting his attractive daughter all the more entertaining. During the afternoons we visited the local library, where I continued teaching Emily my language as the others tried their best to unearth some more useful information — unsurprisingly, to no avail. Samara had proven itself to be the least likely place to find anything related to me, or the Void. There were still many questions remaining, mostly regarding the whales, their oil, and the Great Leviathan — all topics we knew surprisingly little about. Thanks to one of Billie's brazen quips, we spent our evenings sharing our dinners with Nadia, who seemed all too eager to show off her cooking — I suspected it had to do with the fact that she'd been eating alone ever since her husband passed. Before bed Emily and I would take our bath together, spending increasingly more time in its icy chill, hoping it would be enough to ensure our survival when push came to shove.

I could almost fool myself into believing our days in Samara weren't numbered; pretending the Abbey didn't exist became surprisingly easy in a town that showed no signs of them. But such treacherous thoughts would do me no good, and I knew every day passed was a day closer to our dangerous descent into the Void. The longer we waited, the higher the risk of the Abbey having found the place of my murder — and by extension, my father. At night, I often found myself lying awake, gripped by fear; fear of failure, fear of being wrong about everything. What if the light I'd seen beneath the waves wouldn't lead us into the Void? What if the whales had taken us here for a wholly different reason? What if I was wrong about conditioning our bodies to the cold? Such a mistake would surely lead to Emily and I drowning in a merciless ocean. And, more importantly, what if I couldn't bring myself to kill my father? I had never directly taken a life, not during my short time on this earth, or my long existence in the Void. I'd been witness to plenty of murders — all committed for different reasons — but the act had always unsettled me to the very core. There was something inexplicably primordial about one human taking the life of another, and I believed it to be the most quintessential act of domination, of power.

But whenever I caught myself thinking these things, I found my gaze straying to the comforting sight of the woman next to me, her refined features reminding me why it was an absolute necessity for me to succeed — because she desired a world to be happy in, a welcoming place to live, an endless opportunity to love, and a chance to start a family of her own. To me there was nothing more important, more compelling, than giving her these things, be it with or without me. Because to be fair, I honestly did not know how she could ever regain her throne with me by her side — and despite her claims of not wanting it back, she was still an Empress, and a fair one at that. Could the both of us really be selfish enough to abandon all responsibility? Could I live with myself knowing an entire Empire lost a just ruler due to my own selfishness? I had glimpsed the possibilities of what her rule might bring about, the progress, the welfare of her people. Emily the wise, could I really stand to severely limit her potential like that?

Odds were I couldn't, but that didn't have to mean I shouldn't try and love her to the best of my abilities, for now — so that was what I did, and what I would continue to do for as long as I was allowed. In a world without me, she would still be surrounded by plenty of people who cared for her. Without me, she would still have her father to protect her, to love her — even if they were at odds right now, I knew their bond was stronger than a fleeting disagreement. Without me, her life would go on.

But without her, I knew I wouldn't want to breathe, eat, sleep, or even live. Without her, I was only half a person.

* * *

I hadn't expected Nadia's features to be able to light up as bright as Samara's bonfire, but they did as soon as Billie suggested the innkeeper take us all to see the festival — reasoning that the old woman shouldn't be by herself every evening. I wondered what it was about the elder that seemed to resonate with the former assassin so much, especially since the two had become unexpectedly close during our stay at the inn. Corvo, unsurprisingly, objected, lacking any real arguments to support his case aside from the age-old: I don't like parties, and neither should you. It seemed no one was about to side with the Royal Protector — not even Callista, who hadn't visited the festival even once since arriving. I couldn't fault her for not being able to decline one of Billie's overly assertive offers, but I also hadn't missed how the two had grown increasingly friendlier with each other, a detail I knew had gone completely over Corvo's greying head.

"I think I might still have some dresses lying around," Nadia grinned in between bites, her steaming plate filled with local produce; her preferred recipes being strictly Tyvian. "I'm sure I have plenty to suit you lovely ladies — trust me, the festival isn't complete without a girl in a pretty dress." She winked my way, and I hesitantly swallowed my own mouthful of food.

"You'd do me a great favour," Emily beamed gratefully, before her expressive lips were pulled down into a sorrowful frown. "I might have ruined my own..."

Nadia chuckled at Emily's sullen expression. "It happens to all of us, dear," she smiled knowingly, and I narrowed my eyes at the delighted elder, still feeling inexplicably unsettled by her presence.

"Another reason to not visit this festival of yours again," Corvo grumbled, his arms crossed and his plate of food left untouched.

"Nonsense," Nadia shook her head disapprovingly, "a beautiful woman like your daughter should get to enjoy her youth! Time is a precious thing, take it from an old lady like myself."

"I like the way you think," Billie snickered, earning herself a sharp look from Corvo.

I found my gaze drawn to Emily, traveling across her perfectly postured form, noting the way she gently chewed her food, the alluring skin of her neck peeking out from beneath her collar. We were making steady progress, and I was well aware this might be our last chance to enjoy a night out without worries, without the weight of an Empire resting on her narrow shoulders. We had agreed on attempting our dive the next evening, something Corvo hadn't hesitated to protest. He'd been trying to talk her out of it every single day, their hushed whispers insufficient at hiding their exchange of cutting words — especially to my sensitive ears. I didn't like being the reason behind their arguments, my very presence straining their relationship. I knew how important her father was to Emily, and regardless of what Corvo might think of me, I would always continue to respect him. But I knew that if I failed, there would be no more world for them to even have a relationship in, and I also knew that without Emily there to ground me, I wouldn't be able to face up to my demons — or demon, more like.

The women left Nadia's dining room as soon as they finished their meal, following behind the innkeeper who limped ahead, taking them to what I would assume was her bedroom. Corvo and I were left to clean up their plates, a loaded silence weighing down the air around us, or maybe just around me. The following discomfort lead me to want to finish my work as soon as possible, the Royal Protector's overbearing presence leaving me overwhelmed to say the least.

"Your mother," he spoke, suddenly, catching me off guard, causing me to nearly drop the plate I was holding, "what was she like?"

I quickly clutched the plate a little tighter, making sure it didn't slip my grip again. "I don't really know…"

"What do you mean you 'don't really know?'" Corvo spoke quickly, impatiently.

I paused my movements, glancing towards the Royal Protector, scanning his stern features, his disdain for me evident in the scornful frown on his lips. Letting out a soft sigh, I allowed my eyes to travel back down to my hands. "What I mean is; I don't think I ever truly knew my mother. By the time I grew old enough to remember, she was already too far gone from the woman she had once been. Hunger does that to people, it's like the brain starts eating itself after a while, until you become nothing but the shell of a person."

"Why?"

"Well, the lack of nutrients-"

"No, I mean why was she hungry?"

I found myself pausing again, deciding to go against my instincts by indulging the Royal Protector. "Society hasn't changed that much over time, having a child out of wedlock meant you were most likely to be disowned, even then."

"And your father?"

I felt myself tense at the words, my shoulders instinctively raising themselves protectively, a scowl twisting up my features. "I'd rather not talk about my father, Corvo."

"I rather hadn't talked about a lot of things you thought wise to bring up, but here we are."

I tipped my head. "Here we are," I agreed, "and what are you going to do about it?"

Corvo's expression darkened, his unmoving lips pressed together, allowing the familiar, suffocating silence to settle between us once more. I didn't like the determined set of his eyes, or the penetrative glances he repeatedly threw my way. It was then I started to suspect the Royal Protector was hiding something from me, something very important, something that caused him to watch me with carefully controlled scrutiny. I didn't like the way he made me feel, the unspoken judgment in his eyes, the way his lips curled with distaste at the sight of me — to him I was nothing but a sinister threat, a direct danger to the only thing he cared about. He didn't look at me like a person, not because I wasn't one, but because he didn't want to. Considering me a person would mean he'd have to consider my feelings too, and I knew such a thing would be the last thing he wanted; my feelings were the very thing that endangered his daughter in the first place.

I soon found myself sorely reminded of my previous assessment on time, noting how it was once again made to feel agonisingly slow in Corvo's oppressive presence. His resumed silence allowed my thoughts far too much space to wander, and I was overcome with relief at the first sounds of approaching footsteps. I turned my head just in time to catch Emily as she entered the room, my eyes brought to widen and my mouth inexplicably dry at the sight of her. The dress she wore was simple at first glance, an off the shoulder design without any embellishments or colours; it was as white as the snow that covered all of Tyvia. Its body perfectly fit her slender frame, and its long, layered skirt reached all the way to the ground. The sleeves were wide and ruffled, stopping just below her elbow, flowing around her arms with a lightness that contradicted the heavy weight I felt as Corvo glanced my way.

I swallowed in an attempt to fight the dryness that caused my throat to burn, quickly allowing my gaze to drop down to my feet, feeling the familiar heat that spread across my skin — she was breathtaking, and I feared that if I stared too long my heart might succumb to its own violent beat. I didn't look up to greet the others, my eyes instead studying the worn leather of my boots, catching sight of Emily's hand as she reached for mine.

"Are you ready to go?" She asked, and I hesitantly met her gaze, unable to keep from eyeing the way her hair had been pulled back, allowing the dark waves to fall down her shoulders, accentuating the slenderness of her neck.

I nodded, reminding myself that tonight might just be the last night for us, for me. I straightened my back, clearing my throat as I wove my fingers through hers, gathering every ounce of courage I possessed. "Of course," I smiled, forcing every single worry, every obstructing thought to the back of my mind, urging myself to make the most of every minute I got to spend in her mesmerising presence. She returned my smile with one of her own, the expression highlighted by the rosy pink that dusted her cheeks and the loving glimmer of her eyes, the sight causing my mouth to run dry yet again. She pulled me along, leading me towards the entrance of the inn as the others followed behind. I had caught glimpses of their dresses, all resembling the one Emily had ruined, and I had to wonder why hers was different now.

I could feel Corvo's eyes on me as we walked the streets, the music from the festival bouncing off the surrounding buildings, the distant roar of its bonfire growing steadily louder. Emily seemed tense, her hand clutching mine a fraction too tight, her back and shoulders unusually straight.

"Callista told me something," she whispered without turning to me, her words barely reaching my ears. "She said Billie has seen some things."

I flicked my gaze across her features, taking in the way she clenched her jaw. "Such as?" I asked, my throat growing uncomfortable tight.

Emily glanced my way from the corner of her eye, briefly squeezing my hand reassuringly, calming the stressed beat of my heart I hadn't even been aware of yet. "She suspects my father plans on taking me away tonight."

I frowned, feeling my heart stutter nervously within my chest, my earlier suspicions of Corvo suddenly making sense. "How?"

"Sleep darts. He's been preparing them, along with a suitcase. Billie has kept her eye on him, but she hasn't confronted him about it." Her tone was clipped, and I could imagine the hurt she was feeling at her father's alleged betrayal, even if it was meant as a means to protect her.

"So what do you think we should do?" There was a detached numbness settling in the pit of my stomach, the inescapable dread of what was to come slowly twisting my insides.

"We dive, tonight."

"Wha-"

"Billie and Callista made sure I received the lightest, least restrictive dress. They'll distract my father at the festival, allowing us a chance to disappear between the masses. We'll have to be quick, there'll be no time to stop by the inn. My father has always been an excellent tracker, and he'll be trying to watch us the entire night."

"Emily," I spoke as I shook my head, about to protest when she squeezed my hand again.

"Tonight, Matvey," she insisted, worry fraying the edges of her tone, making me realise she genuinely feared separation.

I decided to swallow whatever words had been on my tongue, sending the former Empress a solemn nod instead, fully aware she was right. Still, that didn't mean the sudden change of plans didn't fill me with a sense of debilitating anxiety, the strain of it causing the veins in my neck to throb painfully. I didn't feel ready, but I also highly doubted I ever would. I felt like I hadn't properly said my goodbyes, like I hadn't thanked both Billie and Callista enough for all they'd done for me — I wasn't sure if I'd ever get the chance to now. The revelation of Corvo's secret plans made me even more aware of his lingering gaze, his intense stare surely capable of burning holes through my coat. If he grew even remotely suspicious of what Emily was planning, what all of us were planning, it would all be over.

We arrived at the festival, the vibrant sounds of music and laughter filling the air around us, inadvertently lifting some of the trepidation off my shoulders. It seemed a lot of people knew Nadia, the elder leading our little group received happy greetings at every corner. Like Artur, she told us all about the food, music and activities the festival had to offer, ruefully reminiscing about the many times she'd already visited. It seemed her happiness even managed to rub off on Corvo, who she had politely asked to help guide her through the crowd, her limp making it harder for her to navigate busy places — a big reason for why she hadn't visited in a long time, she admitted.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when we ran into Artur and his friends again, their little group seemingly overjoyed at the sight of us, complaining it had been much too long and asking for how much longer we even planned to stay in Samara. I allowed Emily to answer their questions, my eyes traveling across everyone's faces, trying my best to memorise their expressions, their welcoming smiles, my queasy stomach turning with the knowledge of what we'd be doing later tonight. It wasn't long until Billie convinced Callista to dance with her, the exuberant captain making it close to impossible for the other to refuse — and I wasn't even sure if Callista had even wanted to. I watched as the two women joined the dancing crowd that surrounded the bonfire, the flames casting long shadows across the ground, its heat having melted away all the snow that would have covered it otherwise.

Nadia had joined the other Tyvians at one of the wooden tables, muttering something about her old joints no longer being used to long walks — that didn't seem stop her from drinking, however, as she eagerly gulped down whatever beverage an already drunk Luka provided for her. Corvo had sat himself down opposite of her, refusing every and all drinks she tried to pass off on him, the elder's insistence bringing a genuine smile of amusement to Emily's face. She and I had soon left our coats at the table after being badgered by both Filip and Zima, the couple insisting we join them for a dance. I hadn't missed the hopeful flicker in Emily's eyes, and I knew I couldn't refuse what might just be our final opportunity. So I boldly took both her hands in mine, closely followed by the other couple, all of us joining Billie and Callista.

"Try and keep up," Filip threw our way, firmly grabbing onto his girlfriend who giggled at his words.

I reckoned they'd danced a lot, seeing as the festival was held every single year, meaning they'd had plenty of time to practice — but that didn't necessarily mean they would be better than us. I felt multiple eyes on me; from an expectant Billie, to a challenging Filip, to a glowering Corvo. They all thought their own thoughts, but none of them knew how I had once balanced my small feet on top of much larger ones, how I had felt my heart swell with pride as we moved, beaming up at a giggling woman with bright green eyes, how she had turned me around and around, back when her words still made sense and her legs could carry the both of us. They didn't know my mind had clung to that single memory for centuries, repeating the moves, emulating the sensation of my tiny body swaying through the air. They also didn't know how, when paired with a particular Empress, my every breath became electric, my entire body alight with endless exhilaration.

The music stopped, and I felt an excited smirk tug at the corners of my lips, anticipation causing my heart to pick up its pace, adrenaline already flooding my veins. Emily met my gaze curiously, one of her hands resting on my shoulder as I held the other up in the air, my fingers woven through hers. Her lips parted, allowing her pink tongue to dart out and wet them, her breath stuck in her throat as she waited for me to move. The violin was the first instrument to continue its tune, filling the air with its melodies. The song was a fast one, the rhythmic beat of a drum soon joining in — my cue. I moved, surprising Emily by pulling her into me, tightly pressing her body against mine, taking control of her movements. I was fast, my feet performing the complicated steps with staggering ease, utilising every ounce of balance and suppleness my once so clumsy body had come to possess. I carried Emily through the movements, my arm looped around her waist, hoisting her up against me as much as I could. I carved circle upon circle, my feet weaving through the motions, my heart up in my throat as I sucked in breath after breath.

The crowd of people that had surrounded us had stepped aside, clearing the space for us to dance in, their eyes following us as I continued to whirl us around. I locked my gaze with Emily's, noting how her eyes stared up at me in silent awe, her lips parted as her fingers clutched onto the fabric of my shirt. An excited smile quickly spread across my own face, my skin flushing with heat as my heart slammed itself against my ribs, my entire body sizzling with exuberance. I sent her a quick nod, warning her to be ready, my hands tightening their grip. She sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever was to come. I used the speed I had already built towards to carry me, gravity taking over most of my work. Guiding Emily back towards the ground, her feet intuitively found their balance again. She was quick to match my steps, and I soon released her waist, I allowing her to move away from me, holding on to her hand as I spun her ahead of me, quickly following behind her as we continued to propel each other forward.

Our bodies created the perfect balance of push and pull, our feet manoeuvring the same circles over and over again, our forms briefly meeting between every spin. Everything around us faded into a single blur, the flickering light of the blazing bonfire dancing in Emily's eyes, those pools of amber filled with sparkling vivacity. I tried my best to commit the sight to memory, my mind attempting to capture every little detail; from her colourful features to the perfect white of her dress. We were two halves of the same, a single energy united through needy gasps for air and rapidly beating hearts. Once I had equated her to diamond, but I found now I had been unequivocally wrong — for she seemed nothing like the indestructible crystal, but rather she was warm, rich and welcoming like molten gold, and I found that even if I was dirt, her gracious embrace would nevertheless immerse me in her beauty.

The music calmed, and I pulled her right back into me, sweeping her off her feet as I lifted her into my arms, cradling her in my hold as I continued to turn. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her forehead to mine, our breaths mingling together as I started to slow, my gaze boring into hers, watching as a million thoughts sparked to life and died down again within those magnetising eyes — reminded of a night so long ago, of the rich, silken sheets of her royal bed and a new-born yearning within myself to understand each passing emotion that crossed her features. And I realised, I had gotten what I wanted, hadn't I? Because I found I recognised every single little nuance of those ephemeral flickers, every thought that lingered in those pools of amber announcing to me its promise of love. I smiled, my feet starting to halt their movements, my eyes soon closing on their own accord as I moved to answer her thoughts, my lips finding hers instinctually.

There was a cheer, followed by another, followed by the roar of an entire crowd. We broke apart to catch our breath, and I couldn't believe my eyes as the surrounding mass of people continued their ovation, the two of us met with smiling faces and encouraging whistles. Emily laughed in my arms, drawing my attention back to her, my own heaving chest soon bubbling with laughter, too. I could distinguish Billie's voice as she shouted words of animated support, joined by an undeniably impressed Filip. I slowly allowed Emily to return her feet to the ground, and as soon as she did we were startled out of our jubilation, several people gasping in shock. Following their gazes, we caught Nadia as she sat buckled over, coughing into her hands, a concerned Corvo supporting her. I frowned as several people gathered around them, my questioning gaze darting to Emily, catching the determined set of her brow.

"It's time," she spoke, her hand quickly wrapping around mine, pulling me with her as we disappeared into the crowd of people, the two of us easily blending in with the mass. My lungs still burned from the exertion, my body and mind still high on adrenaline. I swallowed the steadily oncoming nerves that had already begun to make their return, following behind the former Empress faithfully, aware that these might have been my final moments on this earth.

And if they were, I realised I wouldn't have wanted them any other way.


	21. Sleep

The cold air stung my lungs with every heaving breath I forced down my throat, the muscles in my legs burning painfully beneath the strain of our hurried pace. We passed by numerous people, our unusual haste leading to many questioning looks. Emily's movements were disturbingly frenzied, the desperation with which she propelled herself forward evident in her reckless abandon of all grace. It should have been the other way around; the Void should not have been more welcoming than the thought of her father catching up — but I understood it wasn't her father she feared per se. More-so, it was the threat of our separation, the possibility that we might not get to spend another day together. I knew I should not have felt the relief I did at the first sight of the sea, its glimmering waves urging us to pick up our paces. Nothing I felt made sense anymore, my every thought a contradiction; flares of trepidation mixing with rushes of determination.

I could hear them now, their excited susurrus carried by the wind and waves: whales. They knew we were coming, somehow, but I had learned not to question their maritime mysteries anymore. Their sorrowful lilt sent surges of static through my abdomen, and I realised the markings that adorned my skin burned and fizzled at their command. I was reminded of my starting days in the Void, when that unending emptiness had left me feeling so incredibly alone, so incomprehensibly insignificant. I knew even then; the whales were more than us, more than the petty humans that so often laid waste to their own accomplishments. The air was thicker here, as if their very presence filled the atmosphere with their suffering — they had been bled to the bone, and I wondered if we could ever be forgiven for our sins.

We reached the shore, either too soon or not soon enough; my mind couldn't decide anymore. The wooden walkway trembled beneath the thudding impact of our feet, an unusual sense of foreboding in their creaking whimpers. Once at the very edge, Emily turned to me, and I already knew the words that wavered upon her lips — she didn't have to tell me, she already told enough through the glistening of her eyes, the morose tilt of her brow. We had reached the end, and the beginning — of what, we had yet to find out. My mind was gripped by a detached sense of unwavering resolve, my fingers soon undoing the metal clasps that fastened my boots, knowing we had to rid ourselves of any excess weight. Emily worked on her own, her bare feet soon stepping out, toes curling against the cold wood that separated us from the watery chasm beneath.

I righted myself, boots in hand, taking a deep breath and pulling my shoulders back as I stared into the darkness ahead. Then, without thinking, I threw my shoes down into the hungry waters, their worn leather eagerly swallowed by the devouring waves. Emily followed my example, her own pair breaking the surface with satisfying force. I felt lighter without their weight, the only thing holding me down now was the tight clasp of Emily's hand around mine, her skin chilled by Samara's freezing winds, her white dress whipping uncontrollably around her slender figure. She took a sharp breath, moving to say something, but then changing her mind several times. I reached out to hold her other hand as well, pulling her closer to me, the howling air drowning out the distant buzz of the festival, allowing us our own private little space. I smiled, but it was neither happy nor sad — it was everything all at once, yet, in the big scheme of things, would just end up meaning nothing at all.

She returned the expression, and I knew this was it, it was time. There would be no more planning, no more speculating — our eyes would see for themselves the truth the whales had been trying to tell for centuries. Taking a final, deep breath, I leaned in, met halfway by Emily, who raised herself onto her toes to reach me. Our lips met, softly, as if too much force might break the skin, as if our shared tenderness might somehow shield us from whatever horrors we might encounter. We stood at the very edge of the dock, the churning waves beneath lapping at its weathered pillars. The white of our clothes a sharp contrast against the black of the skies and sea, two small specs of light within an ocean of darkness — until the both of us allowed our bodies to tip over, falling straight into the waiting arms of the sea, which in turn smothered us within its icy hold.

The water stabbed our skin with knives of cold, slicing through our bodies without mercy. For a short moment I was certain I would never again be able to move, my muscles freezing up and my lungs overcome with a desperate urge to gasp for air — to breathe — but that need was quickly snuffed by the burning marks that lighted up beneath my skin. I drew back from Emily, opening my eyes to witness how the both of us illuminated the inky depths, her awed features cast in white light, its watery rays refracted by the many bubbles that scattered around us. Her eyes widened as they locked onto something behind me, and I followed her gaze to catch sight of what had to be thousands of whales, all waiting, their marks glowing as they patiently floated along the rocky bottom — like stars in an oceanic sky. Curiosity brought my body into motion, one of my hands still wrapped tightly around Emily's, pulling her forward as I kicked against the waves.

The descent was slow, but it wasn't cold — not anymore. There was a new kind of warmth that thrummed through my veins, a sorcerous heat that transcended the limitations of my mortal body. In turn, the whales responded to our approach, their large shapes stirring from their respite. Their tails swept up a current strong enough to suck us in, the both of us soon carried along by the resulting stream. It was like dancing, the way in which we were sent to whirl around each other, our hands clasped together in a determined lock of limbs, ensuring nothing could part us as we sank ever-deeper. Emily's dress floated around her with an otherworldly grace, its light fabric resembling the large, shroud-like tails of some rare Pandyssian species of fish. I had rarely seen a more delighted expression adorn her elegant features, her eyes glittering with the lustrous glow cast by the sea of whales, any and all sharpness smoothed from her countenance by the velvety water.

It felt like dreaming, but not the kind of dreams induced by the Void; the nightmarish delusions that warped reality and rendered it impossibly uglier. No, even though the vast ocean was as deep as it was endless in its appearance, it wasn't lonely or dead, and right now its darkness was brought alight by our mysterious allies — their presence bringing with it the kind of reassurance radiated by crooning mothers and fostering fathers. They sang to us their ancient lullabies, calling our names in their own manner of worship. Their immense figures circled all around us, darting and diving across each other as if they possessed a single consciousness — maybe they did.

Either way, it wasn't long until my eyes caught sight of the familiar light again, opening up before us like a blooming flower, its mystifying image luring me in once more, reawakening the immediate desire to come closer. I knew Emily saw it too, her fingers tightening their grip, hands clutching mine firmly, fiercely, and as we neared, I saw all that had been and all that might have come to be in a world slightly different.

I saw summer mornings, the sun kissing awake an Empress and I, our limbs entangled possessively like branches of conquering ivy. I saw stolen glances and secretive smiles amongst a court of unsuspecting nobles, lips silently mouthing promises and toes curling in eager anticipation. I saw brisk evenings spent upon empty rooftops, legs dangling off ledges and the dancing notes of laughter breezing past slightly swollen lips. I saw our ageing feet carry us across sun-bathed beaches, through luscious forests and beyond flourishing cities. I saw small fingers and toes, pale skin and bright eyes, met with soul-warming smiles, exultant tears and loving coos. I saw visions of happiness and most importantly; love — and I knew, as soon as we reached the large swirling light that seemed to suck us in with terrifying force, that I was saying goodbye to all those moments, all those what-ifs, all those promises to a different me.

Yet, in that brief instance, there was no more conflict within me, no urge for me to turn around, to chase those distant possibilities; because knowing such a thing might have been, could have happened to me, was enough to fill my heart with calm and unquestionable gratitude. I didn't hesitate as I surrendered myself to the now blinding light, its bright luminance swallowing everything in its shine, the silhouettes of whales disappearing all around, washed away by rays of white.

Looking to the woman whose hands I held so tightly within my own, I felt myself overcome with gratitude, with unending appreciation — because in a life where nothing would have ever been certain or lasting, I now knew her love and devotion would have been — forever. And with that thought, accompanied by the view of her radiant smile, I allowed the light to take us, feeling its glow spill across my skin... until there was nothing but the feel of her palms against mine.

* * *

 _There is death in their dark eyes. These creatures, burned alive to light the world. They carry harpoons in their backs, and chains caught in their bloody teeth. They kill, and dive deep to escape the slaughter._

* * *

There was cold, and there was decay; its tangy presence lingering in the atmosphere, left to be tasted upon the tip of your tongue with every empty breath. The air itself was starved and thin, smelling of ozone and corroded metals — of ancient blood. In the distance, I could hear ear-splitting thunder roar and tear up the aerosphere, like rattling bones and snapping teeth. The fabric of my clothes clung to me like a second skin, soaked all the way through.

There was water still, enough to lap at my sides, parts of me submerged as I lied in the shallows, the warmth and weight of another body pressed against my chest. I opened my eyes, my gaze met with familiar endlessness, with hues of desolate grey and inky black, shaping floating islands and flying waters in their monochrome shades: the Void. I felt Emily stir within my arms, her wet skin brought to glisten by a faraway glow that managed to permeate the greedy darkness. There was something different about this place, this part. It felt older, hungrier... sentient.

The whales up above continued to sing their melancholic song, circling around the both of us, filling the infinite space with their large silhouettes, swimming between hundreds of see-through pillars made of rising water. Raising my head to look past Emily's shoulder, I spotted a wall, or a mountain — I wasn't sure how to describe it — its large, obsidian surface interrupted only by an endless cascade of the world's ocean. I understood it was where we had entered from, but on this side there was no welcoming shine, no glowing beacon to lure us in again. Instead, there was only solid black, devouring whatever light reached its hungry darkness. Seawater continued to pour, falling straight into the Void like a leak, some of it streaming across the island we'd washed up on, flooding large parts of it.

Emily pushed herself up against my chest, her head turning as her gaze took in our surroundings. "Where are we?" She asked, the sound of her voice unusually hollow within the boundless space.

I raised myself upon my elbows, joining her as I stared across the unfamiliar island. "I... don't know," I admitted, my eyes roaming along glistening shards of inky rock. "I don't think I've ever been here."

She raised a confused eyebrow at me, her own searching gaze sweeping across my features. "I thought you knew every corner of the Void?"

I shook my head at her assumption, turning to trace along the many whales above, taking in their floating shapes as they swirled around each other. "The Void mirrors the cosmos, it is near endless; I couldn't have possibly seen all of it even if I had wanted to."

She moved to rise to her feet, the dark waters rippling beneath us, her breath stuck in her chest as she looked around with wide eyes. "That's terrifying," she muttered, crossing her arms and hugging herself against the cold, her gaze briefly darting down to her bare feet before turning to me. "What are we supposed to do now?"

I joined her, coming to a stand at her side, a cascade of droplets falling down my clothes and skin, drawing a reluctant shiver from my body. There was nothing here, no ritualistic objects or esoteric markings that hinted at anything for us to solve — to be frank, I had no idea what to do. "I'm not sure."

Another short moment of shared silence, interrupted only by the distant roar of thunder. "Well, _they_ certainly aren't helping," she huffed in frustration, nodding towards the many whales that spread through the empty air.

I stood watching them, taking note of their way of moving, their large pod weaving a series of repeated patterns through the air. "It's like they're migrating," I mused, seeing more and more of them float by.

This caught Emily's attention, the woman beside me visibly perking up at the words, her curious gaze turning to me. "Migrating? Why?"

I looked back to the mountain, my eyes travelling across its shiny surface. "I don-" I stopped, feeling myself stiffen as I took in the familiar texture, the subtle signs that instead of rock this large shape might be made up of... "It's skin."

"What?" Asked Emily, frowning my way, gaze darting between my face and whatever it was I was looking at.

"The mountain, it has skin," I repeated, moving to walk towards it, my eyes narrowing as I studied the strange form. That's when I noticed the waterfall was made up of two separate streams, falling and joining as one — as if the flesh had been punctured and torn twice. Just like- but it couldn't be? Could it?

"Is it..." Emily hesitated, slowly following behind me, her every footstep echoing with a hollowed splash, "is it a whale?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling my heart race and my veins throb beneath my chilled skin. It wasn't just a whale, I knew, as the image I had observed upon shattered pieces came back to mind, the depiction of a familiar knife seared into my memories. "It's the Great Leviathan."

Emily went completely still beside me, her breath hitching in her chest. I wasn't sure what it was in particular that surprised both her and I the most; the creature's size, or its actual presence. I took a few more steps in its direction, curiously eyeing the presumed wounds upon its enormous body, a dark mist rolling off the water that poured through, causing the large holes to appear as black as the rocks we stood on. "What do you think it would want from us?" Emily asked, her voice noticeably more fragile, the both of us overcome with awe at the rare sight.

I licked my lips, pausing a moment to observe the massive expanse of skin, my eyes tracing along the streaming water. "Do you see where the water falls from it?" I asked, waiting for her to nod before continuing, my own heart pounding in my ears as my mind worked a mile per minute. "That's where the twin-bladed knife serrated its skin."

A contemplative frown formed on Emily's features, her own gaze darting across the creature's skin as she appeared in deep thought. "Do you think the knife created a tear between our worlds?"

I had been stabbed by the twin-bladed knife not too long ago, creating a wound not too different from the one before us, causing me to wither away and die — but then, Sokolov's Whale Oil solution had stopped that, had it not? I hadn't aged, not since...

 _My breath hitched when one of her hands came to rest on my thigh, the warmth of her skin soaking through the fabric of my pants. She watched my reactions intently, her eyes filled with a naive wonder I easily recognised. Her other hand took my raised knee and pushed it down to the floor, simultaneously lifting herself as she settled herself in my lap, her legs straddling my hips and her nightgown flowing across my limbs. I could feel the full heat of her as her body melded against mine in a way that felt entirely too good and too complete for it to be acceptable for a thing like me._

Twin-blades, two pieces, two people. "What if the Leviathan was never dead?" I frowned, feeling my heart race in my chest. "What if its magic, its essence, was leached away, thus creating a tool capable of passing on its power?"

 _I felt my eyes flutter closed as I broke beneath her hands, and relished the sensations that crashed over me as I drowned within the waves of her, and soon she completely engulfed me until it seemed I could breathe no more._

I continued to think out loud, figuring that, with all I had come to learn of magic, anything was possible. "What if passing on that power using two blades instead of one means you'd need two vessels to contain it?" The whales had wanted the both of us, not just me. There had been nothing that connected Emily to the Void, nothing except me, nothing but our relationship — there had to be a reason for her to be here, a greater use she somehow had come to serve. "What if we are the twin-blades?"

She bit her lip, taking in my theories and mulling over them in her own mind, her gaze unfocused as she considered all I'd said. "What would that mean?" She asked at last, returning her attention to me.

I rested my hands onto her shoulders, lowering my head to meet her gaze. "What if we can return what was taken? The whales wanted us, the two of us. What if it's because we carry what the twin-bladed knife once cut away?"

"That- I..." she shook her head, eyebrows pulling together, "that makes no sense, Matvey, I-"

I squeezed her shoulders, causing her to pause, the rest of her words dying upon her lips as she turned to gaze up at me. "You're a part of me now, Emily, you have my heart." I smiled, though the expression was tinged with begrudging bitterness knowing I had literally dragged her into this.

"And you mine," she insisted, her glimmering eyes darting between my own desperately, a sad frown contorting her features, "but what are we supposed to do?"

I took a shaky breath before speaking, straightening myself as I turned towards the falling waters. "I think," I started, allowing my hands to slip from her shoulders as she turned to follow my gaze, "we need to close the cracks." I was fully aware closing the place we had entered through might just mean we couldn't get out again — which would explain why the whales had all gathered here, why they'd travelled home. Because this was their home, and we had torn it apart, cut the guts straight from their bellies and taken their sanctuary to slaughter. I understood we had an opportunity to make things right here, to restore part of what we'd destroyed — no matter the cost, we owed them that; I owed them that. But what about Emily? Did that mean she would spend the rest of her existence trapped within the Void?

"What will happen to you once you let go of that magic?" Emily interrupted my thoughts, startling me from my somewhat overwhelming observations.

"I…" I hadn't even considered the possibility, hadn't bothered thinking what my own fate might be. "I don't know," I admitted, "but it doesn't matter." I took her hands in mine, pulling her closer, swallowing the lump in my throat at the realisation of my likely fate. "I have lived longer than most, Emily, if this is my debt to pay, then so be it." It shouldn't have been a surprise, nothing ever came for free. I reckoned I might start ageing faster again, or die even, but if that meant she would get to live a normal life, in a world safe from the Void, then so be it.

She bit her lip, a tortured frown pulling at her brow. "I won't do it."

I shook me head, my frown deepening. "We have to, it's not about choice. We don't do this, the Void will end up consuming everything: the Isles, your Empire, your father… you."

Her voice cracked in a way that tore at my heart, her pleading eyes glistening with the thought of my passing. "I can't lose you," she croaked, a forlorn expression taking hold of her features.

"You won't," I smiled, placing my palm above her beating heart, despite knowing my words would offer her no solace, "you'll have me, forever."

"Matvey..."

"Ssh," I hushed her, gazing down at her for a moment before leaning down and pressing my lips to hers, silencing whatever else she had intended to say. Closing my eyes, I deepened the kiss as I slowly started moving towards the falling waters, leading her with me. Her hands were on my shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of my soaked shirt. Arriving, I pulled away ever so slightly, moving to whisper against her lips; "I love you, Emily, please don't let the both of us die an unnecessary death."

I didn't miss the shaky breath she released as I moved away from her, her lips pulled into a sad frown and gaze glistening. Blinking away her tears, she took a deep breath and averted her stare, a thousand emotions dancing in those honey-coloured eyes of hers. She didn't speak, and I didn't try to force her to. Instead, I reached out for her hand, my thumb caressing her palm as I raised it towards the large, gaping holes, feeling droplets of falling seawater hit my skin and hers. Her eyes flitted up to meet mine as I guided our limbs through the cascading stream, its freezing water pouring over us. I sent her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand before pressing it to the cold surface, laying her palm against the ancient expanse of skin. I released her, moving to do the same, noting how I recognised the weak, tell-tale crackle of magic as soon as I touched the giant. I took her other hand in my remaining one, relishing in the warmth of her, taking a deep, calming breath before speaking.

"Close your eyes," I whispered, heeding my own words as I closed mine. I waited, allowing her some time to settle. She had bore my mark, meaning she was familiar with magic and how it felt and worked. I knew I wouldn't have to explain it to her, so I didn't, instead biting the inside of my cheek as I tried to subdue the nerves that slowly wore me down. "Take a deep breath," I continued despite my own anxiety, "I will count to three." I didn't need to open my eyes to know she had nodded in confirmation, somehow I knew it from the slight movement of her hand in mine. I took another shaky breath, feeling the air of the Void fill my lungs, tasting metal on my tongue.

"One," I started, the word causing a heavy weight to push down on my chest. "Two." The distant roar of thunder continued to fill the air with an unsettling sense of foreboding, its loud crashes whipping through me with crippling force. I felt afraid, trapped, threatened — but I reminded myself of the warm hand in mine, of the soft sound of breathing before me. I'd do anything to protect her, I'd die a thousand deaths all over again if that meant she got to have a fraction of the happiness the Void had shown me. So I prayed to myself, prayed that this creature, this ancient God, might somehow help her; send her back home where she belonged. And I hoped, for her, for the beggars and outcasts, that she might return to a better world than the one we had left behind. "Three."

Nothing happened at first, the only things I could feel being the pelting stream of water upon my arm, Emily's hand wrapped in mine, and the icy air that chilled my skin — until an explosive warmth shot through me, filling my veins with hot magic, burning my skin with searing light. I reflexively opened my eyes, taking in all that was happening, gaze widening at the sight before me; Emily was glowing from the inside out, her skin illuminated by a thousand shining arteries, her hair floating through the air as if it were water. She had opened her eyes as well, staring straight back at me, mouth agape as she watched what I assumed to be a similar image. I turned to where our hands touched the perforated skin, noticing how the light seemed to seep straight into the black epidermis.

Slowly, I watched as branching veins lit up beneath the dark surface, filling with life, spreading further and further, until the markings that had marred our sides reappeared upon its flesh. The water that streamed down became progressively less, the large gaping holes originally left by the knife, and expanded by the centuries, steadily mending. There was a tangible shift within the air, the cold slowly lifting, the distant thunder settling down as more and more colour seeped into the surrounding atmosphere: bright gold, breaking through the darkness like refreshing rays of sunshine, painting the falling waters in its warm hues and creating streams of honey.

"This is beautiful," Emily sighed, her skin already starting to turn back to normal, the golden light that now filled the atmosphere illuminating her awestruck features. I couldn't take my eyes off her, feeling my heart swell at the mesmerising sight, drinking up the delighted look in her gaze as she watched the Void transform into something else entirely. But at the same time, I felt myself become increasingly weaker, the energy that cracked and fizzled through my limb pouring out into the mythical being at my side, leaving me depleted.

When I chanced a quick look at my hand, I noticed how my own skin was starting to distort, alternating between smooth and wrinkled flesh — the centuries wearing down parts of me at rapid pace. It was then the large beast stirred beneath my palm, the gaping holes that had once oozed water completely mended. I quickly retracted my hand, hoping Emily hadn't glimpsed the way my skin had fluctuated with age. The sudden absence of magic felt strange and hollow, as if a large part of me had been removed, as if I wasn't quite complete anymore. I had to wonder what that would be mean, how it would change me if we ever managed to return to the Isles.

But there were many more questions, and I knew most of them would likely never be answered. My eyes watched the enormous being shift in its place, its large muscles rippling beneath its freshly closed skin. There was a low sound, one that vibrated through tendon and bone, filling the air, causing the water to ripple at our feet. The whale — or Leviathan — moved, its larger than life body rising from its place. Emily had unconsciously taken a step in my direction, her shoulder bumping into my arm, her gaze following the creature with wide-eyed wonder.

The other whales appeared to greet their long lost friend, their large forms swimming through upside-down waterfalls, interrupting the fractured rays of golden light that illuminated them. My breath hitched and heart skipped a beat as it raised its colossal head, its eye alone the size of Dunwall Tower. If the endless Void hadn't already made me feel small and insignificant, then this massive being sure did. It was no wonder humans never lasted long in the Void, their minds and bodies soon corrupted — it would be folly to think we could ever contain or control the same amount of power these whales had coursing through their bodies with every heartbeat as if it were their oxygen.

I watched the Leviathan move, its soulful eye locking on our forms, watching us with clairvoyant intelligence — I had possessed similar sight once, and more than ever I felt like I had been nothing but a mere imposter, a weak recreation of a being much more capable and powerful than myself. Its pupil dilated as it continued to stare us down, a flicker of recognition in its strange, all-knowing gaze. I wondered what such a being might think, if we would even be capable of understanding its mind, its conscience — most likely not. It didn't make another sound, the air filled only by the distant ambience of the Void itself and the continuous song of the smaller, surrounding whales.

Then, without warning, it lowered itself, presenting its great back to us, its eye still watching us with unnerving acuity. I hesitated, unsure if it was offering what I thought it might be offering — chances were, it knew exactly what we had come here to do; I would have, had I still been the Outsider. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I glanced down at Emily, finding her to be looking at me with an equally hesitant expression. Squeezing the hand I had still been holding, I sent her a tight-lipped smile, reassuring her, intuition telling me we would be safe with the revived deity.

I was the first to take a step forward, feeling the water swirl at my feet, streaming past my ankles. Emily followed, albeit a bit unsure at first, her bated breath tangible in the air around us, her trepidation rolling off of her in waves. I lifted my leg, slowly allowing my foot to descend upon the Leviathan's back, feeling its strange, newly warm skin against mine — and that's when I felt it again, the familiar prickle of magic, the invigorating static that heated my flesh. It reminded me of that one time when I had transported across the whales, their touch fuelling my powers, allowing me to wield magic without running out of energy.

I wondered if that was the case now too, if the Leviathan's touch would allow me to channel its magic — there was no fault in hoping. Emily joined me, her other hand holding onto my arm for support, wrapping around the limb as her gaze darted across the creature, curiously inspecting the large expanse of skin. It moved, then, surprising the both of us, the Void's thin atmosphere breezing past our faces, whipping through our hair. The Leviathan let out a deep, trembling moan as it floated through the empty space. the whales flocking to it like small flies, made to look insignificant next to its immense presence.

I wrapped an arm around Emily's shoulders, holding her to my chest, making sure to keep her safe as we moved through the Void with astonishing speed. My eyes were drawn to the vastly different landscape, the black rocks coloured a warm caramel shade by the brilliant hues that now filled the space, the dimension itself made to feel considerably more… alive. The terrifying sense of looming dread no longer permeated the air, the threatening atmosphere replaced by a calmer, more harmonious presence.

It was as if the revival of the Leviathan had brought an end to the destructive reign of a suffocating and everlasting night, its emergence casting the Void in the first rays of sunshine ever since its initial downfall. It made me hopeful, almost, to think that even such a bleak and despairing plane could be transformed — to think the world of humanity, too, could someday be reformed into something better. As I stood watching, I felt the Leviathan beneath my feet, the magic that sizzled through me whispering not words but feelings, insights; gratitude. I found myself praying to it, my mind wishing for nothing but Emily's safe return home once our task was fulfilled.

It didn't take us long to reach the familiar island, its stone statues all-too recognisable, even from afar. My eyes had locked onto one of them in particular, its hands raised in what could only be described as a perpetual slaying, the stone image of the knife clutched tightly between calcified fingers. I felt Emily tense beside me, sucking in a sharp breath as her own gaze found the individual, her hand tightening its hold on mine. I tried to hide the rush of nerves that caused my stomach to lurch and my skin to go cold, trying to keep my expression and posture as neutral as possible.

I had to hold it together, even if all my mind could see was the flash of a twin-bladed knife and the hands that gripped it — dirty nails, blackened with grime. I closed my eyes, briefly, taking in a deep breath, focusing on the feel of Emily's body pressed against mine, our fingers intertwined. She was all the motivation I needed, her presence an ocean of calm and strength for me to submerge myself in. Opening my eyes again, I watched as the Leviathan levelled us with the floating isle, allowing us easy access to its rock-surface.

Gritting my teeth, my jaw simultaneously clenching and unclenching as I tried to calm the storm of nerves that twisted up my insides, I stepped off its back, feeling its magic leave me. I felt weaker, wearier, older, but I dutifully pressed on, Emily's hand still in mine, her feet carefully following behind me. Moving between the many rows of frozen cultists, their flesh turned to cold, unmoving stone, I started to feel the weight of it all press down on me. I still recognised their faces, knew their names, remembered their ear-splitting screams of despair as the Ritual that made me turned them to lifeless heaps of rock.

I reached into my shirt, retrieving the shard I had carried around since escaping the Abbey, its sharp edges pricking my skin. I'd cut his throat, I'd decided — it would be the easiest, and quickest death. I didn't possess the strength to strangle or otherwise suffocate him, and now that I no longer felt any magic spark through me I knew that method was no longer an option. The sharp piece of rock would have to do, it was the closest thing to a knife I carried. Coming to a halt at the frozen figure's side, I allowed my eyes to sweep across the hood that obscured his face — I wasn't even sure I still remembered what he looked like, I thought I did, but those images could have easily been distorted by time.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Emily asked from beside me, eyeing the menacing statue.

I tightened my grip on the shard, bracing myself for whatever was to come. "I have to, Emily. It has to be done," I assured the both of us, knowing my words were meant just as much for myself.

"Yes," she agreed, taking a step closer, laying a hand on my arm, "but it doesn't have to be you." She tilted her head, sympathetic eyes searching mine before finishing what she had to say, "I can do it in your stead."

I shook my head, feeling my heart constrict painfully within my chest. "I won't have you stain your hands with blood — this is my burden to carry, not yours."

Her hand travelled up my arm, coming to rest upon my shoulder before squeezing it in a comforting gesture. "I'm here. You'll be safe," she assured me, her words soft like silk.

I smiled appreciatively, feeling somewhat more relaxed knowing she would be there to help if need be. Sucking in a deep breath, I braced myself again, my eyebrows pulling together in concentration. Leaning forward, I neared the statue's ear, much like Daud had done to me. Feeling my mouth run dry and my heart gallop in my throat, I licked my lips, finally uttering the name I knew belonged to the frozen man. A moment, filled with heavy silence, followed by a sharp gasp for air, a scream, and then, panicked breathing. I caught him speaking as he asked what was going on, but I was struck by the realisation that the voice sounded nothing like I had remembered.

The familiar words he uttered, however, belonged to our dead language; he wouldn't know the modern dialect of the Isles, he hadn't been there to witness the shift of our tongue. The stone copy of the knife had crumbled, leaving his hands empty and shaking. I had taken a step back, watching his hood turn as he took in his surroundings, his hand soon moving to remove the obscuring fabric. I felt Emily's hand where it still rested upon my shoulder, her thumb stroking me in a soothing caress. The hood was lifted, and for the first time in centuries, I saw my own father's face again as he suddenly noticed the two of us, turning to us with wide, panic-stricken eyes.

" _W-who are you?_ " He asked in his ancient tongue, and as I watched his gaze dart between the both of us, I also realised his face didn't much match up to my memories either. He was younger than I recalled, much younger — he looked to be in his early thirties at most. The only things I had remembered correctly seemed to be his eyes, their irises the same warm shade of brown, his skin, which was as pale as it had always been, and his hair, which was still as dark as my own. But his features... they didn't resemble the evil, sinister shapes my mind had twisted them into. If anything, he looked normal... if anything, he looked like me. " _Matvey? Is that you, boy?_ " He lifted his shaking hands, reaching for my face.

I raised the pointed stone threateningly, causing him to falter. " _Don't touch me,_ " I spoke in a low growl, satisfaction washing over me as I watched him move back in fright.

" _Easy now,_ " he tried to placate me, his gaze darting between mine and the improvised weapon. " _You look good, boy — strong, mature,_ " he licked his lips, his hands still raised in surrender, the sight reminding me of a species of slithering, Pandyssian reptiles, " _and who might this lovely lady be, hm?_ "

" _Shut up,_ " I snarled, pressing the stone against the pale skin of his throat, watching with unfocused eyes as the flesh dipped beneath the pressure. There was a loud ringing in my ears, my heart beating up in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I felt dizzy and out of control, the sound of his voice slowly unhinging my mind, my sanity — until the familiar caress of Emily's thumb brought me back, the digit running across my palm. I took a shaky breath, trying to regain some of my composure, my already wet skin further pebbling with cold sweat. " _I've come here to kill you,_ " I admitted, the ancient words feeling strange as I spoke them, as if they didn't quite belong to me.

My father swallowed, his throat bobbing beneath the makeshift knife, his observant gaze staring straight into mine. Then, his lips curled into a hollow smile as he shook his head, eyes roaming my features curiously. " _It would seem you have made quite the man of yourself, have you not? My son, I must admit, I am exceptionally proud of you._ " His words wrapped around me, preventing me from moving, my limbs locked into place as I continued to stare him down.

"Don't listen to him," Emily hissed, narrowing her eyes. "I know a liar when I see one." Her claims brought my throat to close, the veins beneath my skin throbbing painfully. Was he lying? Would he do that even in the face of death?

My father's questioning gaze darted between the two of us. " _What is she saying, Matvey, my boy?_ "

" _What I am saying_ ," Emily spoke up, raising her chin at the man before her, surprising me with how well she had come to master my language, " _is that flattery will not save your life_." She squeezed my hand. " _I recommend you listen now, because had I been your son's place, you wouldn't still be drawing breath_."

I watched as my father's dark eyes narrowed, a sinister and threatening look passing over his features, transforming him into something closer to the disturbing visions I'd had of him. At the same time, I had felt my chest tighten with pride at Emily's words, overcome with admiration for the bravery she continued to show. I took a calming breath, fighting the nervous rhythm of my heart, urging myself to stay collected. My father was about to speak again, his lips already parted, but I cut him off before any words could leave them. " _You'd do well to heed her warning. She's a better fighter than the both of us could ever hope to be_."

His features shifted beneath my gaze, settling into something different, emulating sadness in a way that had me questioning myself despite knowing better. " _You wouldn't kill your own father, would you?_ "

His words almost made me feel remorseful — almost. " _You killed me first_."

There was an excited glimmer in his dark eyes, a hopeful flicker that ignited at the implications of what I said. " _I take it the ritual worked, then?_ "

My scowl deepened, my grip around the shard tightening. " _I'll be the one asking questions_."

He pressed his lips into a grim line, swallowing whatever else he had wanted to say, his eyes continuing to search mine curiously. There were so many things that I felt needed to be answered first, mysteries that gnawed at my gut; how had he found his way into the Void? Where had the whales come from? Had I really been the first human to take the Leviathan's place? But as I stared down the man who had ended my mother's life without an inkling of remorse, I felt every single question dry up on my tongue, the memory of her agonised cries as haunting as it had been all those centuries ago.

It seemed he picked up on my wavering resolve, his own dark eyes swirling with unsettling shrewdness. As I opened my mouth to speak, I caught the sound of a distant rumble, underlined by the familiar crackle of electricity — mechanical parts. My father's gaze broke apart from mine, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. I didn't dare look away, too afraid he might attempt escape. It was Emily who turned to look instead, and I didn't miss her sharp intake of breath, or the straightening of her shoulders as she stared past me.

"It's the Abbey," she hissed, her voice low and loaded with contempt.

I found myself cursing beneath my breath, my blood loudly whizzing through my ears, drowning out all other sounds. I had to think, I had to figure something out — fast. Killing my father now would mean most of my questions might never be answered, but keeping him alive risked the Abbey capturing him. Biting the inside of my cheek, I wracked my brain for a solution, time slipping past me without a hint of slowing down. I released Emily's hand, using my newly freed arm to grab my father by the shoulder, my movements surprising him enough to render him defenceless as I pulled his back to my chest, the shard still pressed to his throat.

"Hold my arm and stay with me," I quickly threw Emily's way, turning to face the direction of the noise. She responded immediately, both her hands wrapping around my bicep as my eyes searched for the source of the sounds. It didn't take me long, the strange, new piece of machinery that stood on the far end of the island stuck out like a sore thumb. It vaguely resembled a bird; large metal wings spanning from its sides, along with several propellers that had been methodically placed across the vehicle. It was no wonder Emily had recognised it as belonging to the Abbey, their tell-tale logo embellishing the invention like a tasteless piece of art.

Its doors opened, allowing a dark set of boots to jump from the machine's small cabin, a familiar, blond-haired man turning to greet us: High Overseer Altair Kinley. My gaze was quick to spot the gleaming pistol in his hand, powered by the same sickening electricity I had seen and felt at Lord Heaton's mansion. I understood it had probably been that same power which had allowed the piece of machinery at his side to operate, the Void's devouring buzz rolling off of its metal surface — I came to realise that with the end of the storms, the Abbey would most likely run into some serious trouble.

I felt my father tense at the sight, the strange contraption entirely foreign to him; he hadn't been around to witness the newest of inventions help humanity progress from their simpler means of existence. With his attention consumed by the strange sight, I took my chance to slowly lead him backwards, further away from the Overseer and closer to the edge of the Island. Emily followed, her hands never leaving my arm, her tensed fingers twisted into the fabric of my shirt.

"Well, well," Overseer Kinley's voice called from across the rocky space, his words bouncing off the human statues that surrounded us. "How gracious of you, Outsider, to do our work for us." His lips curved into a cunning smirk, his hound-like features twisted into an expression of self-satisfied smugness. My scowl deepened at the words, my grip on my improvised weapon tightening, causing the sharp edges to cut my own skin. "Now, be a good citizen and let your father go, hm?" The High Overseer cocked his head, pointing his gun towards Emily as he slowly made his approach. "After all, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, would we?"

"Get behind me," I whispered sharply, my eyes never leaving Kinley's as Emily quickly took cover, her hands still wrapped around my arm. I didn't allow my grip on my father to loosen, my limbs locked around him with as much force as I could muster. Raising my own chin in defiance, I stared down the nearing High Overseer. "I'm sure you and my father would have been the best of friends — you have a lot in common after all; killing mothers comes easy to men like you. It truly is a shame, then, that I won't ever hand him over to the likes of you," I sneered, watching the High Overseer's expression darken.

I could feel my father shift in my arms, alarming me as I fought to keep him at my mercy, the sharp edge of the shard still digging into his skin, moments away from cutting the tender flesh. Chances were he had figured out the other man had come for him, and he mostly likely understood that, contrary to us, the Overseer wasn't here to kill him.

"Though I have considered you many things, a fool was never one of them," the High Overseer growled threateningly, his gun still pointed at us. I felt Emily squeeze my arm, and I realised we must have reached the far edge, meaning we couldn't possibly move any further. "It's only a matter of minutes before this little island here gets flocked by my men; your little fish-friend down below sure manages to draw the attention — it certainly didn't escape mine," he continued, still approaching us as we stood backed into a metaphorical corner. "Hand him over, Outsider, and I might just allow you and your little Empress to live."

I felt my skin heat as he spoke, anger bubbling in my chest, firing up my blood. I hadn't expected my father to try anything rash, which was the first of my string of fatal mistakes, the second being underestimating the High Overseer. As my father escaped my grip, I reacted on pure impulse, my free hand shooting out to grab onto his cloak, my feet pushing us off of the floating island, taking both my father and Emily with me. The High Overseer had chanced a shot, missing us as we tumbled through the air, my fingers tightly gripping the ancient fabric.

Emily had let out a shriek of surprise, her hands still holding onto me as we fell, her hair whipping through the air. I had made a split-second decision, chancing everything on a hunch, risking our lives as I glimpsed the Leviathan beneath us. Never had I expected the High Overseer to do the same, his free hand reaching for us as he threw himself off the edge. There was no time for me to try and shake him off as he grabbed onto one of my father's legs, my own feet soon coming into contact with the large whale that had waited beneath, the explosive crackle of magic shooting through me. My reaction was instantaneous, my mind focused only on getting us away from here, the magic that burned through me immediately obeying my will.

The familiar rush of time and space wrapped around me, pulling me away from the Void, my body inexplicably drawn to a specific location, its presence like a shining beacon, burning with energy as it lured me towards it. Everything happened in a matter of seconds, the dimensions flashing and dancing around us like flickering flames, hinting at the existence of endless other universes. My fall was broken by merciless stone, my skin tearing at the contact, followed by the impact of several other bodies. I let out a grunt of pain, clenching my eyes shut as I gasped for air.

There was heat, accompanied by the familiar crackle of fire, the smell of burnt oil filling my nose. The others had rolled off of me, and I was vaguely aware of Emily's hand on my arm as I fought against the pain, knowing I had to get up and constrain my father before he had a chance to flee. Opening my eyes, I caught the sounds of shocked gasps and whispers, my blurred vision quickly clearing to reveal the familiar bonfire — or more specifically, the mass burning of Whale Oil.

"Violet!" I immediately recognised Artur's voice, registering the sound of hurried footsteps as he most likely tried to make his approach.

I knew I didn't have any time, adrenaline rushing through me as my heart pounded against my ribs, forcing the pain I felt to the back of my mind as I shot up. I was quick to spot the High Overseer several metres away, his body sprawled across the cobblestone ground, his shaking arms attempting to get up again. Turning to my left, I found my father already rising to his feet, about to move away when I used the last of my strength to leap towards him, grabbing the fabric of his cloak again and pulling him back down. There wasn't a moment for me to think as I put all my strength and focus into wrestling the revived man, our bodies caught in a struggle of limbs. My skin hurt all-over, not just from the fall, but also from the enormous amounts of magic I had drawn upon to get us here — much like the time we had escaped the Abbey. I was aware I was bleeding, my father's white cloak soon smeared with red as I fought him to the ground.

"Outsider!" I heard the High Overseer call out as I pressed the shard to my father's throat once more, his body trapped beneath mine. "It's over!"

I stared down into the ancient man's dark gaze, feeling droplets of blood and sweat run down my damaged skin. The air was heavy with tension, suffocating my lungs with every heaving breath I took. I could hear the quiet echo of whispers all around me, people who had only moments ago been celebrating, now all bearing witness to our strange interruption. I found myself hoping, praying to the Leviathan that Corvo was still there, that anyone capable of saving Emily was present. Raising my head to meet the High Overseer's gaze, I found him pointing his gun towards a still kneeling Emily, her white dress torn by the fall. Artur had retreated back into the crowd, large frightened eyes darting between Emily, the Overseer and I.

"By order of the Abbey, I command you to surrender!" Overseer Kinley barked my way, shaking his gun threateningly. His words were followed by another wave of shocked whispers, the people of Samara all turning their gazes on me. I knew this was it, this would be the end. There were no more choices for me to be made, the outing of my identity ensuring the damning of my fate; there was no place here for a thing like me, and the public now knew it.

There was a shuffling to be heard, people moving around as someone emerged from the crowd, their footsteps marked by a tell-tale limp. "The Abbey has no power here." My head whipped around to meet the owner of the weathered voice, my shocked gaze locking with Nadia's defiant one, feeling my breath hitch in my chest at her public protest.

"Heresy!" The High Overseer shouted, taking a threatening step closer to Emily's crouching form. "The Outsider is a threat to all of you — he has already corrupted our once beloved Empress Emily Kaldwin!" He shook his gun towards said Empress, furthering his point.

"Lies!" I recognised Billie's voice as she stepped forward, hand clutching her bandaged arm as Callista supported her weight while she walked — bringing me to wonder how the change in the Void might have affected her. "The Abbey spreads nothing but lies!" She continued, and I caught the familiar form of Corvo behind them, his furious gaze pointed at me, his mind probably searching for ways to get his daughter to safety. There was another surge of whispers, of people negotiating who to believe.

"The Abbey lies!" Another voice chimed in, the familiar figure of Alena stepping forward, soon followed by the rest of her friends, our friends — even an anxious looking Artur, who continued sending me terrified glances. There was an overwhelming wave of gratitude that crashed over me, my unbelieving eyes watching the people band together as they rejected the Abbey's claims, their disgust not aimed at me, but at the man threatening the innocent woman before them, the Empress who had danced and laughed with them without a hint of malice.

"Enough!" Shouted the High Overseer. "Another word and I _will_ shoot the Empress!"

I caught Emily's movements as she turned to me, one of her hands clutching a bleeding shoulder, her features overcome with unapologetic determination. "Kill him, Matvey!" She ordered, causing my heart to falter, knowing that if I were to follow up on her command she would be shot — without question.

"Don't do it Outsider — let your father go!" The High Overseer tried to argue, attempting to hit my weak spots, my chest constricting painfully at his words.

"Do it!" Emily insisted, my breathing turning to wheezing gasps as I tried to figure out what to do, my gaze darting between the man at my mercy and my bleeding lover, her golden gaze reflecting the fiery flames, flickering with fierce conviction.

"Shut up!" Growled Overseer Kinley, and I was just in time to catch his finger move against the trigger, his words followed by an ear-splitting blast. I released my father, propelling myself forward with what little strength I still possessed, my wobbling legs carrying me across the small distance before I threw myself towards the former Empress, jumping through the air and crashing into her with all my might. I gritted my teeth, panting, my eyes clenched shut as I felt Emily gasp for air beneath me. My elbows had suffered the brunt of the impact, more of my flesh torn away by the rough cobbles. There was warmth, sticking to my skin, running down my stomach. I opened my eyes, my mind strangely distant, my thoughts bordering on delirious as my gaze swept across Emily's horrified features.

"It's okay," I croaked, my hands cupping her cheeks, my shaking thumbs stroking down her pallid skin. "It's okay — you'll be okay." A crooked smile curved my lips, before a wet cough wracked my body.

"Matvey..." she whimpered, her eyes filling with tears — and was that blood on her neck?

"It's okay." I coughed again, a sharp pain shooting through my torso, forcing me to roll off of her — and why couldn't I feel my legs?

"Matvey!" I didn't recognise her voice, its tone distorted with horror, turning it into a completely different sound. Her hands darted across my face, raking through my hair, cupping my jaw, beady tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Ssh," I hushed her, weakly, attempting to raise an unwilling arm. I shivered beneath her, her elbow propped against my chest as her fingers dug into my scalp. "Don't cry, Emily," I crooned, my trembling fingers finally reaching her cheek, tenderly stroking her skin, leaving behind trails of red. There were voices surrounding us, the sounds of footsteps darting past, followed by the familiar noises of a struggle.

"No, no, no, no, no," she kept repeating the word, shaking me as her eyes roamed my form, my own gaze following their direction — hadn't her dress been white? "No, Matvey, please!" She was starting to sound increasingly desperate, her pleas soon turning to shouts, embodying a rawness that tore through the very marrow of my bones.

"Don't cry." The words were strained, my voice slowly fading away, taken by the oozing warmth that flooded my mind, tasting something metallic at the back of my throat.

"No! No — father!" She called, turning her head, her eyes desperately searching for something. "Father!" There were more footsteps, followed by the sound of rustling clothes as someone kneeled down next to her, a large hand wrapping around her shoulder. Emily continued to sob, my failing fingers trying their best to wipe away the tears, wipe away the smudges of red.

"Emily, sweetie-"

"Help him!" She begged with the helplessness of a small child, her fingers digging into the collar of my shirt, clutching the fabric until it tightened around the back of my neck. "Help him, father!" She continued, only to be interrupted by another heart-wrenching sob. "Someone help!" I was starting to wheeze, my eyes slowly falling shut as the numbness that had taken my legs slowly spread through the rest of my body. She shook her head, her trembling lip pulled into a horrified grimace. "No, you can't leave me!"

I smiled a waning smile, my gaze drinking up the way her features were brought to glow by the bonfire at our backs. "I love you, Emily." I trailed a finger across her lips, marvelling at their softness. "So, so much." I hadn't noticed my arm falling down until it hit my stomach, its muscles no longer capable of bearing its weight. It was then that I felt the pooling wetness, my entire abdomen soaked in something warm and sticky. I tried to look down, but I found I couldn't lift my head. The tips of my fingers had started to cool, a sickening chill slowly spreading through my limbs, eating away at the pleasant warmth that had smouldered just beneath my skin. I desperately wanted to close my eyes, get some rest — sleep, if only for a minute. I was tired, so, so tired. But Emily was crying — why was Emily crying?

"Don't you dare die on me!" I felt her forehead as she pressed it against mine, unaware my eyes had fallen shut in the meantime, her warm tears falling down my increasingly colder skin.

A weak snort passed my lips, a berating smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "You cannot command a God, Your Imperial Majesty."

Her sobs had turned to heaving gasps for air, a low guttural sound escaping her throat with every breath, mixed in with the indistinguishable mutters of a mourning soul. I wanted to remind her that it was okay, that everything would be okay. I'd wake up soon — I was just tired. There were voices, muffled and far away, all dripping with pity, all speaking with hushed desolation. I felt her lips on mine, soft and warm they were, bereaving me with their departure. Then there were hands, warm hands, many hands. And I wanted to tell them to let me go, to leave me be.

I was just tired — so tired.


	22. Heal

_The smells of smoke and wood permeated the air around me, lingering on my clothes, my skin, and my hair. I watched as my mother tended to our small fire, warming our makeshift tent with its crackling flames. When she seemed satisfied, she turned to me, her bright, green eyes filled with a golden flicker. Pursing her lips, a thought appeared to strike her, her pale hands gesturing for me to come to her. My feet instantly obeyed, my own gaze fixed on hers, drinking up the warmth in her eyes that paled the fire's in comparison._

 _"I know we haven't anything to eat," she spoke, her voice as smooth as the frozen lakes and rivers that surrounded us, "but I know something that'll help you forget your hunger." She winked, her lips twisting into a playful smile before she righted herself, holding out one of her hands for me to take. There was only an inch left between the top of her head and the roof of the tent, and I had to crane my neck to continue to meet her gaze. I reached out a hand to take hers, my own limb dwarfed by her larger one, her long fingers wrapping around my small palm with ease. She brought me closer, bending forward to take hold of my other hand as well. "Place your feet on top of mine," she said, continuing to smile down on me as she waited for me to follow her instruction._

 _I did as she told me, her grip on me tightening as I swayed, balancing me as I stepped onto her feet. I felt taller now, and soon an excited grin spread across my cheeks, my expectant gaze darting back up to meet my mother's._

 _"Hold on tight," she giggled down at me, her eyes crinkling joyfully. I couldn't help but mirror her elation, and when she took her first step I felt myself burst into a fit of laughter as my feet were forced to move with hers. I imagined this was what walking on air would be like, when my feet might carry me along endless clouds, across sun-filled skies and above faraway lands. She danced with me, graciously moving through the tiny space of our tent, her hands clasping mine and her feet carrying me around. My own fits of laughter left me increasingly lightheaded, my cheeks flushed and face hot. When both of us were too tired to stand anymore she pulled me down with her, our fall cushioned by our pelts. Out of breath, she smiled, her warm gaze staring into mine as she raised a hand to brush through my hair. "I love you, my precious boy, never forget that."_

* * *

The first thing I registered was the way my muscles felt as if they had been hewn from stone, my entire body gone painfully stiff and rigid — for a moment I feared opening my eyes, afraid I might be confronted with Billie Lurk's face, painted in the grim hues of the Void, with Daud's whispering voice still lingering in my ear. But, within the Void, I had never felt the soft comfort of a pillow beneath my head, or the safe and reassuring sensation of a blanket sheltering my form. And certainly, the Void had never smelled flowery, or carried sounds similar to the rhythmic huffs and puffs of machinery. But most jarringly was the absence of a certain sound, one which had become as familiar and constant as my own heartbeat: the singing of whales. I slowly opened my eyes, my blurry vision greeted by flickering lights and a wooden ceiling. A groan escaped my throat as I attempted to raise my head, the action interrupted by the sound of a voice.

"Don't move too suddenly," it whispered, and I soon recognised Corvo's familiar timbre.

I tried to speak, but my own voice had faded from disuse. I felt something stuck in my nose, and I was almost certain it went all the way down my throat. Clearing said throat, I tried my best to spot the Royal Protector from the corner of my eye, his figure looming at the side of what I presumed to be my bed. "Where's Emily?"

Corvo leaned closer, his face now clearly in view, his eyes darting between me and something at the other end of the unfamiliar room. "She's asleep." He nodded his head towards where he'd been glancing, after which he let out a sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands — he looked tired, and I vaguely recalled him being at the festival. I couldn't seem to remember what had happened, and I found myself wondering if Emily and I had managed to succeed. Corvo's dark gaze returned to my face, and the weary Royal Protector quickly moved to speak. "You were shot."

I frowned, the words filling my mind with incomplete flashes and visuals; a roaring bonfire and the threatening glint of a gun.

"A lot has happened while you've been… recovering." He rubbed his coarse chin, his gaze wandering off. "Anna worried you might not wake from sleep again, and my daughter has barely left your side despite her duties."

There was something he wasn't telling me, and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out what. "Her duties?" I asked instead, content to skip whatever information he deemed inconsequential enough to forego indulging me.

"The Citadel has agreed to hear her out, allowing her a chance to expose the Abbey's deceitful conduct, and to discuss a pardon for the both of you," he rumbled. I felt my brows pinch together as I processed his words, the mention of the Abbey bringing back a memory of the Void, of golden light and winged machines. "Both your father and the High Overseer are in custody — I suspect you might be happy to hear this: the Abbey of the everyman is no more."

I felt the air fill up my lungs, staying there, expanding my chest as my mind lingered on the words 'father' and 'custody'. "What do you mean, a pardon?" I quickly steered away from the subject, wary of any sort of conversation pertaining the very man who had slit my throat.

Corvo's eyes flicked my way, a hint of curiosity in their warm depths. "You have Nadia to thank for that, turns out her daughter is a member of the Presidium. She's managed to convince the High Judges — don't ask me how, but you've won Tyvia's support… Especially once Emily managed to trace back your heritage; it's all she's been able to focus on these past weeks."

I had always been aware of the undying fondness the people of Tyvia felt for the princes, however, never had I expected them to be able to extend such fondness to me. I felt out of breath, my eyes turning to trace along the ceiling, mulling over it all, a sense of disbelief gnawing at my insides.

"Well, imagine my surprise," Corvo chuckled. The sound caught me off guard, causing me to turn my head at last, and I not only felt the muscles in my neck protest the action, but also what I assumed to be a tube shift uncomfortably within my nose. Corvo's expression was guarded, but I didn't miss the way the corners of his mouth twitched, itching for a smile, or the warm sparkle in his eyes, holding mine without an obvious trace of contempt. If I didn't know any better, I would think him to be trying to hide his inexplicable fondness — and doing a rather suspiciously poor job of it. He let out a small huff of breath before speaking again, resting his elbows on top of his knees, his fingers weaving through each other. "I know you and I… we've had our differences," he started, his gaze briefly darting down to his joined hands. "I'm certain most fathers would be opposed to the idea of their daughter dating a former representative of the Void."

I raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised."

Corvo's lips pulled into a humorous smile. "Careful," he warned, "you shouldn't get smart with your future father in-law too often."

My breath found itself stuck in my throat, my mouth quickly running dry as my heart started to pound in my ears — Corvo seemed to find my reaction surprisingly amusing, a satisfied grin splitting his cheeks as I tried to squash the fluttering in my chest that brought my blood-pressure to skyrocket.

"That is, of course, if you still intend to marry my daughter?" He raised his brows, peering into my eyes, his features unreadable. I felt a fresh wave of nauseating anxiety wash over me at the Royal Protector's unexpected attitude. He had reached out to touch my shoulder, and I flinched out of pure instinct, his frozen hand now lingering in the air above.

"I'd like to see Emily," I spoke instead of answering, my rasping voice scratching along the dry walls of my throat. I swallowed as I fought the irregular rush of my pulse, trying to suppress the oncoming flood of nerves.

Corvo's frown returned, resignation settling over his features. His eyes left mine, and he retracted his hand before rising from his seat. He moved to walk around my bed, my gaze following his every step, noting the pristine, white sheets that covered my entire body. I had to turn my head in the other direction to keep him in view, and I soon caught sight of a sleeping Emily; her body curled on a small couch, covered by a thin blanket. Her hair was back to her usual style, regal and composed. I could see the blanket move with every steady breath she took, her dark eyelashes dusting along her rosy skin. Corvo knelt before her, briefly glancing my way before gently cupping her cheek, thumb stroking her awake.

"Emily, darling, wake up," he whispered, his rumbling voice bringing her to stir, her heavy lashes fluttering as her lips parted, allowing a soft breath of air to leave her. Her eyes soon opened, narrowing against the surrounding light, her brows pulling into a gentle frown.

"Father?" She asked, squinting up at him and raising her eyebrows in question. Corvo sent her a brief smile, before turning to look at me, his gaze followed by Emily's. I watched as her stare found mine, her eyes widening and her lips parting in silent shock. All remnants of sleep were soon gone from her countenance, replaced by a mixture of emotions I couldn't quite tell apart. My body moved on its own, my elbows supporting my weight as I fought to prop myself up on the bed, feeling a sharp pain shooting through me. I winced, but didn't have any time to linger on my agony as Emily shot up from her place, her arms enveloping me in a bone-crushing hug. I felt her fingers rake through my hair, her hand wrapping around the back of my head, pulling herself as close as she could, burying her face in the crook of my neck as her other hand travelled across my back, sending an onslaught of shivers down my spine.

Everything came back to me then; from the revelation of Corvo's planned attempt to drug and take Emily away, to the late night plunge that had sent us straight into the Void. I recalled the reawakening of the Great Leviathan, and the way an invisible sun had risen and painted the Void's vast expanse in a golden light. I remembered whispering my father's name in his ear, and the unexpected appearance of the High Overseer. I could still feel the bonfire's heat upon my skin as we had crashed back into this world, bringing my father and the High Overseer with us — and most of all I could still feel the overwhelming surge of desperation that had gripped my heart as I heard the gunshot, watching the High Overseer as he attempted to kill the woman I loved. I had been shot, Corvo told me, and I instantly knew I had jumped in front of the bullet, my final moments of consciousness a complete and utter blur of images and sounds.

I felt Emily's breath fan across the skin of my neck as she let out a shaky sigh, her fingers clutching the fabric of the shirt I was wearing. "Never, ever, leave me again," she whispered, her lips moving against my skin, her voice vibrating through me. It was then I realised I couldn't hear her heartbeat anymore, or Corvo's for that matter, an ability I had never considered unusual — instead, there was only the soft sound of her breath in my ear.

My eyes found Corvo where he still kneeled before the couch, a small, encouraging smile warming his features, causing my jittery pulse to pick up again. My own heart: still beating, still alive. It was then that everything came crashing down on me, every single emotion I hadn't been able to process yet — because I was still breathing, and Emily was too. We had survived, somehow, and for the first time in my lifetime I felt truly, genuinely welcomed. I let out a relieved breath of my own, my eyes closing as I returned her embrace, surrendering myself to the overwhelming waves of emotion that washed over me. It hurt — it hurt so, so much — but it was pain in all the right ways. I kept my eyes clenched shut, tightening my grip and pulling Emily even closer. I hadn't noticed the tears until one of them hit my arm, a single drop falling down, followed by a dozen more as my mind continued to try to make sense of it all, attempting to wrap around what Corvo had said — because in that moment I realised what he'd meant, what he'd offered me without an ounce of hesitation. I released another shuddery breath, feeling my chest deflate, the heaviness that had gripped my heart replaced with a new kind of lightness that brought a teary grin to my face.

"As you wish," I croaked, feeling her grip tighten at the words, my own heart swelling at her familiar touch.

"By the Void, I've missed your voice so much," she sighed, nuzzling into me. "I've dreamt so many dreams, imagining the sound of it, recalling your exact cadence — now I realise nothing ever came close."

I pulled back, lowering my head to meet her gaze, watching how her eyes glittered with joy. Her features seemed set aglow, bright and full of love, the mere sight of her bathing me in her affection. I felt a smile pull at my lips, the corners of my mouth lifting as I raised a hand, tracing the tips of my fingers along the warm skin of her cheek, wiping away her tears.

"I'll have Anna remove the feeding tube." I heard Corvo say in the background, the sound of his footsteps passing by causing Emily to turn away from me. Her gaze followed her father as he left, and he sent us a quick nod before closing the door behind him. I sucked in a mouthful of air, closing my eyes for a moment, collecting my thoughts. I hadn't prepared myself for any of this; the prospect of me surviving or even being allowed to just be too inconceivable. Instead, here I was, standing at the precipice of something entirely out of my control.

"Emily..." I knew I wanted to say something, anything, but as soon as I opened my eyes none of the words that had waited upon my tongue felt right.

She released the fabric of my shirt, pressing a finger against my lips, her eyes darting between them and my gaze. "Rest with me," she smiled, a slight frown pulling at her brow, her other hand sliding down my chest before pushing me back against the bed. I allowed her to guide me, her own body soon following as she slipped beneath the sheets with me. She curled a leg around mine, pressing herself up against me as she used one of her hands for a pillow. She looked up at me, and I had to turn my head to meet her gaze, feeling my skin heat beneath her unrelenting stare. She sent me another, fleeting smile, her eyes traveling across my face, glittering with the sterile brightness of the overhead lighting. "We'll have plenty of time to talk, indulge me a final moment where I get to have you all to myself."

I smiled, raising a heavy hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, quickly realising it had been her perfume I had smelled upon waking.

She appeared to notice my small revelation, her ever so observant gaze flashing as a mischievous grin spread across her face. "You seemed so rattled by the scent, I'd hoped it might bring you back to me — if only for a brief rant."

A soft, rumbling chuckle escaped me at her admission. Taking a deep breath, I brought my face closer to hers, pausing to search her gaze for a moment. She parted her lips as if to speak, and I knew exactly what she would have to say. My smile widened, and I slowly moved to press my lips to hers, relishing the feel of them before pulling back ever so slightly, enjoying the way she tried to prevent me from parting. "I'd be loathe to admit I find its smell pleasant, as it would be a rather inappropriate sentiment on my fiendish part."

She raised an eyebrow, her eyes crinkling with laughter. "Are you saying evil Void entities aren't allowed to enjoy the smell of flowers?"

I shook my head. "I'm not saying I wouldn't be allowed, just that acknowledging such a thing wouldn't be beneficial to the status quo."

She let out a snort of laughter at my words as one of her hands took hold of my shoulder. "Stop talking and kiss me," she whispered as she pulled me closer, capturing my lips with hers once more.

* * *

I was sorely reminded of the value of privacy once my assassin-turned-saviour had gotten wind of my awakening — and I found I couldn't have been more grateful for the short hour Emily and I had shared together; in a world that would now know me as 'the Outsider', I was aware such moments would most likely be sparse.

"Well, well!" Billie's voice burst into the room, the door she had barged through slamming against the wall with harrowing force. "Look who's finally awake!"

I cringed at the noise, a soft hiss escaping me as my eyes darted down to take in Emily's reaction. She seemed just as disturbed by the intrusion, her lips and eyebrows both pulled into an irritated frown. Gritting my teeth as I turned around to face the boisterous woman, I was once again reminded of my still sensitive body, pain shooting through my stiff muscles. My throat ran dry at the first sight of Semenov, who followed closely behind an excited looking Billie and a calm Callista.

"Good evening," the doctor greeted me, her gaze shooting up from the papers she was holding, briefly darting to the woman behind me. "Miss Kaldwin," she nodded in acknowledgement, an amused glint in her eyes.

Emily cleared her throat before she raised herself, carefully removing her leg from where it had been resting between mine. "Good evening, doctor," she replied whilst softly sliding off the bed, bereaving me of her warmth.

"If all of you don't mind, I'll need to do a quick check up with the patient," Semenov spoke as she walked up to the bed. "You can all wait over there if you'd like," she suggested, nodding towards the couch where Emily had been sleeping, her free hand extracting a pen from one of her pockets.

Everyone obeyed without complaint, moving to the available space in muted silence. My eyes lingered on Emily, trailing her every movement as she sat herself down. She dared another quick glance my way, her eyes betraying the mirth she was trying to hide, her teeth worrying her lip in an attempt to keep from grinning — I felt an answering smile pull at the corners of mine, but the expression was quickly wiped off my face when Semenov cleared her throat behind me. I turned to meet her gaze, my hands folded on top of my chest, my heart beating against my palms.

"I'll need you to answer a few questions first, starting with your name." She raised an inquiring eyebrow at me, her pen hovering above her stack of papers.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, reminding myself that this woman had been the one to save my life. "Matvey," I answered, watching her eyes shoot up from her paper as if to encourage me to continue. "Just, Matvey," I quickly clarified.

She nodded. "Do you know what year it is?"

"1853," I replied without second thought.

"Very well." Semenov nodded again. "And do you know where you are?"

My fingers fidgeted with the blanket that covered me. "I'm assuming we're still in Samara?"

"That's correct," she confirmed, writing several things down on her paper before putting the pen back into her pocket, moving to stretch out her arm. "If you could squeeze my hand, please?"

I eyed the doctor warily before obeying her request, feeling my own hand tremble as I forced my sore muscles into motion, reaching out to carefully squeeze the awaiting limb. She hummed a small approval, retrieving her hand before writing down her findings. She moved to the end of the bed then, pulling back the blankets to reveal my feet.

"Could you wiggle your toes?" She inquired, and I did as told, moving them without any issues. "Alright," she spoke as she moved to write down some more, her pen scratching along the paper. When she appeared satisfied she reached for the stethoscope around her neck, asking me to lift my shirt before placing the end against my chest. Listening to my heart before moving to my back, she asked me to take several deep breaths. My three visitors watched it all in patient silence, even Billie — and it served to demonstrate how close to death I must have come. Semenov pulled down my shirt when she was done, returning to her piece of paper to write down her final findings before turning her gaze back to me. She reached for my face, and I realised she was about to remove the tube from my nose. It didn't hurt, but it had to be one of the more unpleasant things I had gotten to experience. With the tube removed she focused her eyes on me again, her gaze sharp and unreadable. "It would seem you've recovered quite well," she said, tipping her head. "You're a lucky man."

"Luck ain't got nothing to do with it, doctor," Billie commented from her chair, to which Semenov responded with a small smile of her own, nodding her head in silent gratitude.

"Will he be able to travel?" Emily asked, drawing my gaze to her carefully schooled features. "I'll want to set sail back to Dunwall as soon as possible."

"How soon might that be, your Majesty?" Semenov asked, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"Tomorrow."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I knew the trip would take us a while, especially since the whales likely wouldn't be there to help us along this time, but still; I was in rather poor shape.

"It should be fine, but I'd need at least tomorrow morning to prepare your supplies, treatment plans and do a final checkup..." Semenov counted off her fingers, cocking her head as she considered Emily's words.

"Then the morning you will have," Emily nodded reassuringly, "I hope you'll understand a swift leave is of the utmost importance."

"I understand, your Majesty."

"Why?" I found myself asking, completely unaware of what had been happening around me while I had been asleep.

"Why do you think, old-timer?" Lurk quipped, and it was enough to make me understand.

"You fear the Operators," I observed, noticing how Emily's diplomatic mask revealed just the slightest crack at the words.

"Bargaining your pardon was challenging enough, never mind insisting your rehabilitation be back in Gristol; The High Judges were very clear as to where your loyalties should lie."

"My loyalties?" I snorted incredulously.

She bit her lip, her hands fumbling in her lap. "I assured them you would return — once you had gotten the chance to fully heal and recuperate."

"Return for what, exactly?" I narrowed my eyes, not liking where this was going.

"I was offered a deal, and I accepted..."

"You mean you _decided_ for me," I sneered. "What kind of a deal are we talking about?"

Emily released a tense breath, wringing her hands together and averting her eyes. "You will join the Presidium, for five years. You'll receive a full citizenship, including protection from any form of harm."

"No," I bristled, crossing my arms.

She looked up again, amber eyes meeting mine. "It's not a matter of choice-"

"Emily, I won't — don't you understand? I refuse to be a tool."

"Matvey," she pleaded, shaking her head as her unspoken words hung in the air between us: for our daughter.

My eyes flitted across our company, my heart pounding at the memory of the visions I'd seen, visions Emily and I had shared — a future I'd considered impossible. Neither Billie nor Callista spoke up as I was forced to make a choice that would surely impact the Isles for centuries to come. "What happens if I refuse?"

"You'll be deemed a threat to Tyvia. In short, it'll end in either execution, or war." She leaned forward, bringing herself closer to me and resting her elbows on her knees. "Listen, we cannot win a war with Tyvia — especially during the current economic crisis Gristol faces. Besides, we also can't afford risking the loss of our largest ally should Morley rise for another war — our ties have been rather turbulent as is. Chances are they mainly want you to appease the rebels and revolutionaries; the return of a true Tyvian prince. You'll be a figurehead, working with the Operators to root out corruption. In five years time, you'll be a free man, honoured for your service."

I shook my head, releasing a weary sigh. "I don't think I can do this, Emily — besides, I'm a bastard anyway." I was well-aware my loyalty to Tyvia paired with our marriage would most likely further cement the alliance between the Isles, however, the Empire might suffer a complete shift in power for it.

"I'll just... go and start preparing the supplies," Semenov suddenly spoke up, peering at us from the other side of the room, her gaze as unreadable as it had been.

Emily simply nodded, not taking her eyes off of me, her lips set in a tight line.

"Listen kid, I know politics ain't your thing," Billie spoke, tilting her head, "but this is your opportunity to redeem yourself in the public eye. You can prove the Abbey wrong, earn your place with Emily…" She paused, her frown deepening. "It's a fair chance for the both of you."

"Billie's right," Callista offered me a small smile. "You already have people in Samara, and dare I say even Dunwall, rooting for you — all you've had to do is be yourself."

I looked away from them, allowing my gaze to shoot to my hands where they now rested in my lap, feeling a sense of defeat start to eat at me. "We'll be separated for five years."

Emily had risen from her place, wrapping a hand around one of mine. "What's another five years compared to forever, right?" She smiled, but I could easily catch the sadness leaking into the expression.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, kid, most relationships don't even last that long."

"Billie!" Callista hissed.

Emily completely ignored the former Assassin. "We'll both be kept busy, five years will pass in the blink of an eye with all the issues we'll be needing to fix — I mean, solving our energy crisis will probably drive me up the wall, so it's best you're not around to suffer my imminent meltdown."

I bit the inside of my cheek, my eyes straying down to my hands again, tracing along the insides of my palms, traveling across scarred skin. I took a deep breath, feeling a tightness in my chest that left me desperate for more air. I knew they were all right, I was aware sacrifices would have to be made if we were to end up together. Returning my gaze to meet Emily's, I reluctantly swallowed my pride. "For her," I told the woman I loved more than everything, knowing she'd understand, "I'll do it."

* * *

"I truly don't think I'm allowed out of here."

"Nonsense," Emily spoke from around the corner, her voice drowned out by her rummaging through whatever Semenov had stored back there. "I am Empress, remember? And I demand you be brought to my room at once."

"By spiriting me away?" I asked, unable to keep my amusement from seeping into my tone. Billie and Callista had left only minutes ago, after both of them had gotten a chance to lecture me on almost getting myself killed, which had been followed by their mutually shared gratitude for what I'd done for Emily.

"No," she corrected me, "I'm moving you unannounced, that's not the same, mind you." The rummaging stopped, and soon Emily reappeared from behind the corner, proudly pushing a wheelchair my way. "Besides," she continued, "I'll leave a note."

"How considerate, your Majesty." I arched a brow her way, watching her as she prepared the chair.

She rose to meet my gaze, placing her hands on her hips in a show of defiance. "I simply refuse to spend yet another night alone," she asserted before ushering me to sit up.

I reluctantly obeyed, dreading the pain I knew would follow. Wincing, I managed to gather enough strength to sit up, albeit helped by a doting Emily. "On that note," I started, clenching my teeth against the stabbing pain in my back. "What month is it?"

Emily quickly removed the blanket, freeing my legs before hooking her arms around my torso. It took me only a single try to find moving my legs to be a near impossibility, whatever muscle I'd gained would have surely deteriorated from lack of use — a realisation that saddened me more than I had expected. She lifted me with more ease than I was comfortable with, and I almost hoped for her to drop me as she lowered me into the chair — she didn't, of course. "It's the month of Hearths." She rushed the words, almost as if she didn't want to say them. Meanwhile her body moved around the chair to make sure I was well-seated, her hands tinkering with the mechanics.

"Month of Hearths?" The words slipped off my tongue before I could restrain it, disbelief flooding my tone. Had I been asleep for nearly three months?

"Yes," she confirmed, rising to her feet in front of me. I stared into her eyes, attempting to come to terms with the fact that not only had I been missing out, I'd most likely been keeping Emily here, stuck in a city without sun. A voice within me reasoned fear probably wasn't the only motivation behind her haste in returning home. "The High Judges have been... kind enough to lend us their protection during our stay, though I refused their doctors. Anna has proven herself not only knowledgeable, but also trustworthy — a rare quality."

"And she just accepted?" I asked as Emily rounded the chair, grabbing onto the handles before pushing me forward.

"Well, yes," she said, rolling me around the bed.

"And you've been staying here?"

"Of course," she was quick in her response, as if anything else would have been an offence. "I insisted I stay near you — my room is next to yours."

I finally allowed my eyes to take in my surroundings, noticing the room's similarity to Semenov's office. "I'm sorry for keeping you here..."

"Nonsense!" She immediately confuted. "You almost died for me, Matvey, staying here hardly compares to what you've done for me."

"Still..." My eyes travelled along the contents of the room, intrigued by the amount of medical tools and machinery. "I'm sure your presence and subsequent rule have been sorely missed."

"There's nothing I haven't been able to do from here, save for my meetings in Dabokva — trust me when I tell you: I've kept myself perfectly occupied."

"I'll take your word on that," I sighed, glancing down at my lap for the first time, noticing the way my legs practically drowned in the loose pants I was wearing. Emily halted the chair, slipping out from behind me to open the door before continuing. I wondered how long it would take before I could walk properly again, or run for that matter. We entered a dimly lit hallway, the walls lined with only a few burning lanterns. The buzz of electricity ebbed away, and in its absence I felt the disorienting lack of magic that used to sizzle within my blood — like the whales, all there was left was silence.

There were several doors, and as Emily had said, she picked the neighbouring one. We entered, and I noted the sole burning lantern that rested upon a cluttered mess of a desk. Looking around the space, I also spotted a rather large cot that had most likely served as Emily's bed, leaving me to believe that this room hadn't been intended for sleeping in the first place. The surrounding cabinets full of books, medical instruments and other various tools confirmed that suspicion. I was surprised to find the floor to be as cluttered as the desk, with paperwork and several either opened or closed books littering its surface. Emily closed the door behind her, and just as she rolled me towards the cot, I caught sight of a large mirror. I was confronted by my reflection, and my appearance made me hold my breath. Emily seemed to notice as she glanced between me and the object of my attention.

I continued to stare, my throat gone dry and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I hadn't even noticed when Emily had pushed us forward — closer to the image of me. Green eyes stared back at me, set in a face that reminded me too much of _his_. One of my hands traveled to touch my cheek, surprised by the texture of my skin. "Emily?" I started, but I lost my voice before I could finish my question.

She circled the chair, kneeling down at my side, her hand wrapping around mine. She hesitated, her mouth opening and closing several times as she searched for the right words. "As you continued to lose more and more blood..." she paused, licking her lips, "you aged." She tipped her head, pulling my hand away from my face and into her lap, her fingers caressing my palm. "We tried Sokolov's Whale Oil, but it did nothing. There was no more magic, and as time passed I watched you..." her voice cracked, and when I chanced a look in her eyes I noticed the anguish she fought to hide, "wither away." I turned to gaze down at my lap, feeling her hand squeeze mine tightly. "Anna told me you had lost too much, that you would die unless we did a transfusion — risky as they are, we had no other choices left."

"Whose?" I managed to ask, glancing down at our hands.

She didn't answer right away, the air around us feeling heavy. "Mine," she answered, "we gave you my blood."

I shook my head, not daring to look myself in the eye, my heart racing in my chest. "How is this possible?"

Emily reached out, turning me to face her as her thumb caressed my cheek. "It doesn't matter how," she smiled, "all that matters is that you're healthy. You're young. You get to have a life."

Young. I wasn't just young, I looked to be nearly a decade younger. I took a deep breath, slowly turning back to the mirror, my eyes traveling across my face. The lines that had once been there were gone — _lines of worry, sorrow and anger_ — my skin smoother than I last remembered. I noticed that, despite the lack of muscle on my body, I still looked well-fed rather than starved. My voice hadn't changed, and I had a feeling I was just as tall as I had been, so I couldn't be _that_ young.

"The good news is, you haven't aged since; so far you appear perfectly normal." Normal... human... no more tricks up my sleeve. "You've continued to heal on your own, Anna says all traces of magic are out of your system."

I glanced in Emily's direction, not quite able to meet her gaze. "So, you don't mind?" I regretted the question as soon as I'd asked it, and I felt overcome with the urge to throttle myself.

"Mind what?"

My eyes darted between her and my fidgeting hands again. "This..." I attempted to explain something I couldn't, and I let out a shuddery breath of frustration, "I..."

She wrapped a hand around my arm, bringing my focus back to her. "What do you mean?"

I didn't even know why I suddenly felt so uncomfortable, and it left me at a loss for words. I shrugged, uncertain what else to do, my brain trying its hardest to rationalise what I was experiencing. "I'm weak..." I returned my hands to the armrests, feeling my fingers dig into the material, "juvenile."

"You are not," she immediately asserted, leaning forward and capturing my face between her hands, forcing me to look her in the eye. "This," she raised her brows, her gaze sweeping over me, "this is only temporary. You _will_ heal, and trust me when I tell you: you'll be an old grump like my father sooner than you'd probably like." Her expression softened then, her tone taking on a soothing edge. "You've already shown me the phenomenal power you possess when it comes to protecting those you love — channel that, only this time, use it for _you_ for a change."

I continued to stare into her eyes, recognising the spark that always flared up whenever she talked of something she was passionate about. She was right, they had all been right — so why was I making this more difficult than it needed to be? Semenov had helped save my life, and Emily had given me an opportunity to live said life — but not only that, Corvo had all but encouraged me to marry his daughter. Hadn't this been all I'd wanted? To get to be human? To be accepted? To have a family?

"You're still afraid," Emily interrupted my thoughts, those amber eyes narrowed in observation.

"I-"

"Listen to me," she interrupted, "I cannot guarantee your happiness won't someday be taken away." She shook her head as she spoke, eyebrows pinched together sternly. "But there is one thing I _can_ promise you: you'll never experience it if you won't risk trying."

I took a deep breath, allowing her words to settle in as I fought off the nerves I felt at the very prospect of what she suggested. "Is this what marriage is going to be like?" I half-heartedly quipped, raising an eyebrow. "You always being right?"

Emily let out a laugh, releasing my face, and I noticed she seemed relieved at my playful comment. "Father used to tell me I got that from my mother," she smirked, eyes shining, until the expression faltered and she grew tense again. "Did my…" she paused, biting her lip, "did father tell you?"

The tentative look in her eyes was telling enough for me to know what she meant. "Yes."

She nodded, gaze skirting along my form, avoiding mine. "We've kept him here for now, but once we leave he'll be transported to Utyrka where he'll serve a life sentence."

I ignored the dread that twisted my guts. "Why did you keep him?"

Her gaze returned to mine, those shining eyes filled with earnest concern. "I wanted to give you the opportunity to see him a final time, before he's gone."

I turned my face away from her, my eyes traveling back to my reflection.

"So, will you visit him?" Her voice was soft, gentle, and it effectively washed away the sickening dread that had been steadily growing within me. Looking myself in the eye, I knew there was only one way to separate my image from his.

"I'll heal, right?" I turned back to Emily, noticing how she visibly relaxed.

"Yes," she smiled, "you will."

* * *

I'd almost forgotten what it'd been like to live without sunlight, every morning made real only by the moving hands of the clock. It was disorienting: the ever-present darkness, especially now that I'd woken up after so long. Emily was still fast asleep, her delicate hands wrapped around one of my arms, her head resting against my chest. Her hair was down again, splayed across our pillow in a dark mess of strands — I liked seeing it that way, it was personal, unguarded. I wove my fingers through it, allowing them to travel from her temple to the back of her head, enjoying the silky texture I'd become familiar with. She stirred beneath my touch, releasing a contented sigh as her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, her gaze beaming with warmth. I found myself smiling back, my heart thudding happily at the sight.

"Have I told you how much I missed you yet?" She murmured, closing her eyes again before snuggling closer.

"Something along those lines." I felt my smile grow at the words, my gaze lazily traveling across her peaceful features.

"Hm," she hummed in agreement, her grip on my arm tightening. There was a knocking on our door, effectively cutting the moment short and turning Emily's smile into a displeased scowl.

"Emily," Corvo's voice called from the other side, "darling?"

She pouted. "Yes?"

"Have you, by any chance, seen the Ou-" there was a cough, "Matvey?"

"I took him."

"You took-!" Another cough, followed by Corvo clearing his throat. "Darling, why did you take the patient?"

Emily rolled her eyes my way, letting out an exasperated sigh before her lips pulled into a playful smirk. "To sleep with him, father," she spoke innocently, which did absolutely nothing to hide her obviously intended innuendo. I opened my mouth to protest, but she quickly covered it using her hand, scrunching up her nose and blowing a raspberry my way.

Corvo remained dreadfully silent, and I couldn't help but nervously glance between Emily's grinning features and the door. Then, after what felt like forever, Corvo spoke again, his voice unusually hoarse. "Well, are you decent?"

"Of course," she spoke through her smile, playfully biting her lip. She then removed her hand from my face, leaning down to peck me on the lips before swinging her legs off the bed and rising to her feet. My eyes followed her in stunned silence, both my hands left to helplessly rest on top of my chest.

Corvo entered just as she pushed the wheelchair towards me, his gaze cast to the floor. "Anna needs to do some final checks before he can be released."

Emily helped me sit up before she carefully lifted me — something I still wasn't quite used to — and lowered me into the chair. "He's ready," she spoke, moving behind me after checking if everything was in place.

"Good, good," Corvo nodded, reluctantly glancing our way. There wasn't a trace of malice or anger in his features, which felt more relieving than I would ever like to admit. I watched the Royal Protector closely, and- did he just smile at me? I looked away, closely inspecting my fingernails which I now discovered had been kept surprisingly proper. Emily pushed me forward just as Corvo started back towards the door, making a swift exit in front of us. We rounded the corner, and I wasn't at all surprised to catch sight of Billie leaning against the wall, the mysterious coughs suddenly explained. She was grinning our way, a sparkle of amusement in her exposed eye. She opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted her.

"If you're thinking of embarrassing me, then I'm sorry to let you know Emily already beat you to it."

"Good morning to you too, kid," Billie smirked, shooting the woman behind me a quick look of approval.

"Any news?" Emily addressed the former Assassin, who pushed herself off the wall and followed us.

"Secretary Kalin's representative has approved our leave, however they request an immediate final meeting to ensure the agreement is to be upheld once we depart the Isle." Billie hadn't been Daud's second in command without reason, and it seemed she revelled in the opportunity to prove herself useful to the Empress again.

I could hear Emily click her tongue in disapproval. "If they truly think me capable of risking the welfare of my people in provoking Tyvia then they are not only fools, but they also haven't been paying attention. They'll meet with me, and only me. By the Void, Matvey has been awake for a single night, his only concern should be recovering and nothing else."

"You want me to relay those exact words?" I could spot Billie's amused smirk from the corner of my eye, and her chipper mood soon rubbed off on me.

Emily let out a bitter chuckle. "Don't worry, I'll tell them myself." She turned to Corvo, then. "We leave this afternoon, once Anna is done will you escort Matvey to the station?"

Corvo hesitated, but soon offered her a gruff, "of course."

"Billie, you'll be joining me, but we'll all leave together; their damn representative can wait."

We entered the room I'd originally been in, its single bed now obviously vacant. Semenov sat on a small, wooden chair, her eyes scanning the same stack of papers as the night before. She looked up at the sound of Emily's voice, her eyes shooting between the Empress and I.

"I see the patient has been retrieved safely?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Corvo cleared his throat from behind me. "Yes," he confirmed the obvious.

"I intended to leave a note," Emily said while she pushed me towards the waiting doctor.

"She did," I piped in, feeling jarringly uncomfortable from my position — I was used to being tall, so having to crane my neck to look people in the eye was disconcerting to say the least.

Semenov waved a hand our way, a soft chuckle escaping her. "It's fine," she assured, "I suppose some time together was in order."

"It's been my first full night of sleep ever since the incident," Emily admitted, her openness surprising me — but then again, they all called the doctor by her first name as well.

Semenov nodded, wearing a sympathetic smile. "That's good." She turned to me then, lowering her papers. "And you?"

I blinked, taken aback by her sudden focus on me. "I'm fine." I glanced towards Emily, who had come to stand beside me.

"Any pains or strange sensations?"

I shook my head. "No."

"That's good. I'll do a quick physical check along with some bloodwork," she spoke while putting away her papers, retrieving some tools before returning to me. "We'll need to establish a revalidation schedule for your travel home. The sooner you start the better; we'll have you out of that chair in no-time." She sent me a quick smile, catching me off-guard again. It was definitely going to take a while to get used to people who knew my true identity treating me like a... person.

"Thank you." The words escaped me before I knew it, seemingly surprising the doctor, who simply smiled and nodded. I bit the inside of my cheek as she got to work, hoping she'd known that I'd meant to thank her for more than just this. She'd saved my life, and she seemed to consider it only a minor service, nothing special. She had given me another chance at a future, and still she didn't want for anything in return. I didn't recognise the feeling that stirred within me, but what I did know, was that it was only the beginning of a life much better, and much kinder than I'd previously known.

* * *

"Father, I'll be fine, if the High Judges had truly wanted to go back on their word they would have already done so."

"Are you sure you don't want me to escort you?"

"Billie is perfectly capable of protecting me, even without her magic."

"Relax, old man," Billie quipped, "I haven't forgotten how to wield my blade just yet."

Corvo grunted, angrily crossing his arms and sourly glaring ahead. I watched the familiar interior of Semenov's hospice pass me by, the same hallway Corvo and I had walked through months ago looming before me. I hadn't expected the building to be as large as it was, or for the area where I'd been held to be on another floor entirely. Corvo had been the one to carry me down the stairs, much to his and my chagrin. I nervously twisted the familiar ring around my finger, the entrance of the building growing ever nearer. I hoped there wouldn't be anyone at the reception, or in the streets for that matter. Emily had assured me it would be safe, that the Operators had been stationed within Samara and that no one was about to risk a one way trip to Utyrka — I didn't share her effortless optimism.

"Good morning, your Majesty," the receptionist smiled in Emily's direction, only then noticing the chair containing me. She immediately straightened herself, before managing a quick, "and good morning to all of you too."

I was relieved to find the lobby entirely devoid of any waiting patients, and I silently begged for the streets to be equally empty. But, as fate would have it, they weren't. Corvo loomed over me like a daunting shadow, his large, muscular figure blocking most of my view. All around me I watched the people react to Emily's passing, before noticing me and quickly looking away. It was what I would have expected; the soft murmur of distant whispers filling the cold air, followed by several wary looks. I recognised the streets we traveled, and I sorely longed for when Emily and I had blended in just like everyone else. I found myself waiting for something to happen, for a much expected stroke of bad fortune — yet nothing ever came.

"This is where Billie and I must separate from you," Emily announced as soon as we arrived at a large intersection, halting before moving to kneel down in front of me. "Father will take you from here — you'll be safe, I promise."

I nodded, unable to keep from glancing at the surrounding people, noticing how they all mindfully kept their distance. I was about to say something when a familiar voice rang out.

"Lady Emily!"

I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and as I turned my head to face it I spotted an approaching Artur, his arm raised and waving. He hesitated once I met his eyes, recognition flashing across his features. Emily stood, placing a hand over mine reassuringly.

"Artur!" She called with a smile, her inviting tone easing some of the nervousness that had showed on the young man's face. I turned away, pointing my gaze back down to my lap. I could hear Artur's footsteps grow closer, coming to a halt before Emily.

"Your Majesty," he acknowledged her, and from the corner of my eye I caught him respectfully bowing his head, "it has been some time."

I noticed Billie stepping forward, acknowledging Artur before speaking to Emily. "We shouldn't linger for too long," she suggested, carefully eyeing the people passing by in the distance.

"You're right," Emily agreed, turning her attention back to the Tyvian. "I'm truly sorry, Artur, I'm afraid we're already running late for our appointment." She took in a small breath, folding her hands in front of her. "We're leaving today, actually." I noticed Corvo taking hold of my chair, preparing to push me wherever we had been headed. I was about to glance in Emily's direction when I felt one of her hands on my shoulder. "I'm sure you remember Matvey," she spoke, eyes darting between me and the young man.

"Ah, yes!" Artur laughed nervously, and I hesitantly moved to meet his gaze, carefully assessing his features. He was rubbing the back of his neck as he grinned down at me, and I caught the tension in his shoulders as he stood just a fraction too straight. "How, uh," he paused in an apparent search for what to say, "I mean, how have you been?" It was obvious he was trying his best to avoid being awkward, and I had to at least appreciate the attempt. "You're looking good! I mean, for your age and all that, I-"

Tipping my head, I watched the way his eyes never quite met mine, his gaze flicking over to look at Emily for reassurance every few seconds. I cleared my throat, composing myself as I carefully raised my slightly trembling hand. Artur's grin faded, replaced by a puzzled look, his arm hesitantly lowering from his neck. I patiently held out my hand for him, waiting for him to take it, my eyes not leaving his. After a few seconds of him processing the gesture and glancing from my outstretched limb to my face, he finally gathered the courage to take it.

I felt the corners of my mouth lift, satisfied with his surrender. "Goodbye, Artur," I smiled, gently shaking his hand. I released him after that, and it took him another few seconds to realise it.

"Yes! I mean, goodbye," he blurted, finally meeting my gaze, the subtle hints of dread gone from his eyes.

I cocked an eyebrow, raising my chin as I stared him down. "I'll admit I've considered you quite the babbling idiot."

"Ah, I see, yes," he nodded, brow puckering, "makes sense."

"But," I continued, unable to keep the amusement from my tone, "you're a good person. I'm happy I got to meet you."

"Oh." He nodded again, fumbling with his much too large scarf. "That's very nice of you."

"Who knows," Emily smiled, "we might all see each other again someday — though for now we truly must make our leave."

"Of course! I won't keep you," Artur grinned, taking a step back as if to allow us passage.

Emily nodded in agreement before turning back to me, lowering herself to my height again. She tipped her head as she continued to smile, resting her hands on my legs for balance. I watched her curiously, painfully aware of our onlooking audience. "I love you," she spoke softly, "remember that." She leaned forward, slowly bringing her face closer and pressing her lips to mine. My heart lost its rhythm at her touch, pounding against my ribs and heating my blood. Too soon she pulled away, her smile widening and her amber eyes flashing mischievously. Then, she gave one of my legs a final squeeze, straightening herself and turning to Billie. "Let's go," she spoke, sending everyone a parting nod.

I watched them turn and walk away, feeling Corvo start to push me forward, continuing towards the man who had cast me out of this very city. Artur retreated to wherever he'd come from, and the people who had stopped to watch slowly walked off, clearing the streets. We still received a lot of looks, even now that Emily had separated from us, but after our short meeting with Artur, I'd come to realise most people didn't stare at me warily; it was hesitant curiosity that made them turn away only to glance over their shoulder. For as long as everyone here could remember, the Abbey had told people what to think of me, and even though Samara had never bowed to them, the Outsider was still a taboo subject.

"I was wrong about you," Corvo spoke from behind me.

I felt myself tense, the hair at the back of my neck rising. Turning my head, I met Corvo's gaze from the corner of my eye. "You're not going to knock me unconscious so that you can surrender me to some twisted admirer, are you?"

Corvo spluttered for a bit, quickly composing himself before raising a brow. "I believe Waverly has made quite the fortune for herself," he replied, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"Contrary to Lydia," I retorted, still watching him.

His mouth curved into a bitter smile. "Yes," he admitted, "though that isn't what I intended to talk about."

I narrowed my eyes. "You changed your mind then?"

"Changed my..." he paused, frowning. "No," he growled. "Listen, I know the man in that cell is your father, and all I can say about that is that what he did shows he never deserved to be a parent in the first place."

I swallowed whatever possible retort had been on my tongue, my hands gripping onto the armrests with more force than was necessary.

"I was wrong for trying to take Emily away from you, because I know now you'd sooner die than let any harm befall my daughter." He sighed, and I could tell none of this was easy for him to express. "And I want you to know that, before you go in there, you'd make a true father proud to call you their son."

I took in a deep breath, feeling my heart in my throat, throbbing painfully. I lifted my hands, pressing my palms to my face and closing my eyes. My mind raced in an attempt to process the words, searching for possible reasons why he might be lying, why he would manipulate me — but I found myself unable to think of any. I felt his hand on my shoulder, squeezing me, and I then noticed we were no longer moving.

"I'm proud of you, Matvey," Corvo finished, and I could hear he had kneeled down next to me, his hand still holding my shoulder. I released a shuddery breath, suddenly feeling faint. My head bowed down as my hands ran through my hair, my eyes opening to stare at my lap. I could tell he was looking at me, his perceptive gaze seeing my every move. I wasn't sure what to do or say, just that I felt overwhelmed. For some reason his words seeped into the very marrow of my bones, filling my essence with his unexpected admission. He patted my shoulder before straightening himself, moving back behind me and grabbing onto the handles once more. "Now then," he declared, his tone much lighter than it had been, "I believe you have a prisoner waiting to hear one of your infamous monologues."

The wheelchair started to move again, and I felt my eyes sting as a small smile curved my lips.

* * *

The cell-block was small and unimpressive, lit only by a single lantern. Its stone walls dull, gray, and lacking any sort of decoration or design. It suited its single inhabitant, his form slumped on the floor of his cell, back pressed against the dirty wall. Corvo had told me to knock on the door as soon as I was done, leaving me to be alone with the wretched figure in front of me.

" _I see fate has brought you down as it has your whore of a mother before you_ ," he hissed, raising his head just enough to meet my gaze. " _Serves you right_." His voice was hollow, lacking any real vigour. Observing him, I quietly noted all our physical similarities, from his high cheekbones to his straight nose.

" _Don't worry,"_ I cocked an eyebrow _, "I'll walk again._ " I watched his features twist into something ugly, destroying whatever resemblance we shared.

" _Say what you've come to say you damn pest_." He slithered closer, gripping the iron bars, his knuckles turned white by the force. Raising my chin, I gazed down on what could only be described as a pathetic heap of a man, a former prince, brought to lie in his own excrement. I allowed my eyes to stray, taking in his neglected appearance, his dirty fingers, his nails, blackened with grime.

" _For so long I blamed myself for what happened to me... blamed myself for what happened to my mother_ ," I muttered, fascinated by his inability to control his expressions; his anger, his bitterness, all bared for me to witness. In so many ways, I had feared him, this shadow of a man _—_ and it had led me to carry his guilt for centuries. " _But now I've begun to see, none of it is my fault."_ I narrowed my eyes, feeling my pulse pick up, my blood heating as I stared down my murderer _—_ my mother's murderer _. "It was all you. You caused everything. For centuries I have watched countless men as selfish and callous as you, infecting those around them with their rot. I have watched them all fall, one by one, victims of their own deluded hubris — like you."_ I took a deep breath, feeling the tension in my chest start to alleviate, my heart slowly calming down again. _"There is nothing special, or particularly fearsome about you."_ I smiled a bitter smile, the weight that had pressed down on me for centuries starting to lift _. "No, father, I pity you; you who had the most beautiful gifts life has to offer thrown in your lap, yet you rejected them all — and here it has brought you, in a cell as insignificant as yourself_."

" _You blasted mongrel!_ " He shouted, his fist pounding against the bars, bringing the iron to shake and tremble.

I tipped my head, eyes studying his final dissent, the dying cries of a fading soul. " _A mongrel I may be, but still, I will always be more than you; I am loved — and if there's anything I've learned, it's that the very notion of love is wasted on entitled, self-serving men like you_." I calmly watched as he continued to spew only angry words of hatred, and I turned away, raising a hand to knock against the door. A few seconds later, and Corvo walked in, sending the enraged prisoner an appalled look.

"Ready to go home?" He asked, ignoring the noise coming from the cell.

I felt a smile tug at my lips. "Yes," I looked down at my hands, eyes tracing the scars on my palms, feeling cleaner than I ever had, "I'd like that."


End file.
